Family
by JennaMae
Summary: Harry discovers that his parents' wedding rings might hold answers -- a *couple* of them. Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, and some Lily/James. *Chapter 16 up; COMPLETED*
1. The Divination Homework

**Family**

_Chapter One  
The Divination Homework_

"I can't think of any other ideas."

With his feet still propped up on one of the tables in the Gryffindor common room, Harry Potter looked up from _Unfogging the Future_ at his best friend, Ron Weasley, who sat across from him. "At least you've written something down," he told him, pointing at Ron's parchment. "Look at me. I'm just amusing myself with the really silly predictions in here."

"Sshh. Don't let them hear you." Ron jabbed a thumb at the girls who sat at the far end of the table. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, their fellow Gryffindors, looked very engrossed in the cards laid down in front of them.

"So what'll Hermione be?" Harry asked.

Ron's eyes lit up, as Harry expected. "Hermione? She's going to marry this nutter—who, for the record, isn't Krum," he added, smiling. "And he's going to let her do stupid things like build a house out of books, and she's going to hex him whenever they fight. But then again, they'll live happily ever after."

"Hmm. The nutter sounds like someone I know."

Ron's head snapped up. "Who?"

_Why _you_, you incredibly silly prat,_ Harry thought. "Nah, I was kidding."

"If you say so." Ron looked relieved. "I don't know what you're gonna be yet, Harry."

"Don't even try. I never had much trust in these." Harry sat up straight and picked up his own stack of Tarot cards. "Let's say we trade these for Exploding Snap, would you agree?"

"Yeah!" Ron said without hesitation, slamming his battered copy of _Unfogging the Future_ shut.

The sound made Lavender and Parvati look up from their cards and, seeing Harry shove aside his Tarot cards, the girls scowled at the two boys.

"You two are never going to take Divination seriously, huh?" Parvati said loudly.

"No," Ron said matter-of-factly without even taking a glance at them.

"With good reason," someone said behind his back.

Ron whirled around in his seat and found Hermione Granger, with a look on her face that was half-supportive, half-frustrated.

"Fine, hate Divination . We all do—" Hermione said, eliciting a more unpleasant frown from Parvati and Lavender"—but at least, do your work decently."

"How exactly do you do decent work in Divination, may I ask?" said Ron.

At this point, Hermione faltered. "Uh…well, at least learn the theory, or…." She looked up at Harry's and Ron's self-satisfied smiles. "Oh, never mind." She grinned back, sitting beside Ron. Parvati and Lavender, rolling their eyes, went back to work.

It was cold outside on that February evening, but as it had been in the past four years of Harry's stay in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Gryffindor common room was as warm as any comfortable home could be. Despite all of the assignments he had to do (such as predicting at least 20 close friends' futures using Tarot cards for Divination), annoying teachers to dodge, and Slytherin ambushes to watch out for, he felt quite happy, for on that evening he was with his friends. It was quite silly, he knew, to feel that way, for evenings in the Gryffindor common room were like that…always. Well, okay, almost. But that evening, staring into the fireplace with its flames crackling merrily, Harry let out a contented sigh.

"What?" Ron asked.

"What?"

"What was that sigh for?"

Harry picked up _Unfogging the Future_ again. "Nothing."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, and shook their heads.

"Hey, guys." Another female voice was heard from behind them. This time it was Ginny Weasley, Ron's sister, who was in her fourth year. "Hi."

"Hi, Ginny," said Hermione, motioning for her to sit down beside her. "What's up?"

"Muggle Studies," said Ginny, sitting down and giving Harry a grin. "Can you help me a bit with this…electricity thing?"

It was another one of those times when Ginny's new attitude—at least towards him—amazed Harry. It was only last summer when, as Harry visited The Burrow, Ginny grinned at him—rather coolly, not in the shy way that she used to smile at him in their previous years. From then on, she always gave him _that_ smile. He couldn't seem to shake it off his mind, even until now.

Not that her whole appearance hadn't changed. She grew her hair longer, so that straight, fiery red hair cascaded down her back. And she looked more…confident. She seemed to have outgrown her shyness, too. Her new smile, at least the one she saved for him, attested to that.

It was apparent that little Ginny had grown up. And her silly crush over Harry had…well, diminished—been sucked into oblivion. Harry had felt quite relieved when he noticed.

But then again…why was he noticing? Harry inwardly groaned, looking down at his book again, though not really reading.

"What _about_ electricity?" Hermione was asking.  
  
"How does it work?"

"Well, you know Muggles use it to power things like lamps, radios, TVs…"

"Appliances," Ginny prompted. "But how do they get the electricity there exactly?"

"Uh, well…there are these…um, long cables that send electricity to houses and offices." Looking up, Harry noticed that Hermione looked rather uneasy. "From these power sources…."  
  
"Yeah, I think I understood that part," Ginny said softly, leafing through _ Sciences of the Muggle World_. "I just don't get how small things get electricity without having to…what, plug them?"

Hermione shrugged. "Batteries?"

Ginny looked at her blankly. "What?"

"Batteries," Hermione repeated. "They're these small cylinder-shaped things that have some sort of electricity in them."

"Not all are cylinders," said Harry, butting in. "There are types that look like rectangles. Watches have these small batteries, just this size." Harry curled his forefinger towards his thumb to illustrate. "And, you know, cars run on batteries this size." Harry gestured once more.

Ron and Ginny were staring at Harry, apparently dumbfounded by the wealth of information he was giving them.

"Your _watches_ run on _electricity_?" said Ron. "With…what? _Batteries_?"

"Yeah…well, some don't run on batteries," Harry went on, glancing at Hermione (who had begun to scowl). "Some are solar-powered." When Ginny still looked confused, Harry went on to explain. "You know, they get power from the sun's rays and convert it to electricity."

"You seem to know a lot about electricity," Hermione interrupted.

Harry looked at her. "You make it sound as if I don't know anything else."

"That's a lot of information I haven't found in the books in the library," Ginny said, scribbling notes on a piece of parchment. "Thanks a lot, Harry." Again, there was that cool voice.

Harry couldn't help but feel pleased, though. "Hey, ask anyone here who grew up with Muggles—they'll tell you the same thing."

"Hermione didn't say the same," Ron reminded him. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I was…um, correcting her," Harry said, trying to stop the two from bickering. "Doesn't mean she doesn't know."

"How do _you_ know a lot about them, anyway?" Ginny asked Harry.

Harry looked at her for a while. "You really wanna know?"

Ginny grinned. "Try me."

There was something about that grin that _Harry_ wanted to know…if there was anything to know about it. Somehow, it seemed to be rather mysterious. Meanwhile, he wondered if he should go on and tell them why he knew a bit about electricity and electronics. He didn't want their sympathy for his horrible home life at the Dursleys. Not on a nice evening like this.

"Well," Harry began, his mind trying to hold on to a credible fib, "I…tinker with the old toys Dudley throws out the window. You know, out of curiosity."

That wasn't a complete lie. The thing is, Dudley's old and broken toys went either in his bedroom or in his _old_ bedroom—the cupboard under the stairs. And that gave him a lot of chances to investigate electronic parts and a faint idea of how they really worked.

"Wow, brilliant," Ron said admiringly. "I never knew you were that curious about things."

"Yeah. So if I ever get thrown out of the wizarding world, at least I'll have a Muggle sideline."

Ginny gave him a dirty look. "Don't even think about that," she said seriously. "How can _you_ ever get thrown out of here?"

"I was kidding," said Harry, smiling. "But, you know, I might even become something like your Dad."

"Great," Ron said. "Another nutter."

_"Ron,"_ Hermione said warningly.

"Yeah, yeah." Ron picked up his quill, dipped it into his ink bottle, and wrote on his parchment. "'A very close friend, who supposedly will die sometime soon, at least according to a very dear professor who oh-so-accurately predicts everybody's death'—"  
  
Ginny looked aghast, while Hermione looked happy again. She peered into Ron's parchment. "You may want to remove that line if you don't want her swooping down on you like the bat you always say she is."  
  
"That was Snape," Ron told her. "Okay. Let me try again. 'A very close friend will be unfortunate enough to hold the job of Head of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office of the Ministry of Magic, will help defeat the most evil wizard of all time, marry and live happily ever after.' It isn't as terrible as she might like, but…."  
  
"Nah. That life would be cool." Harry looked into the fire and smiled, thinking of himself surrounded by a bunch of rowdy kids trying to pry an old PlayStation joystick out of his grip. Not a bad life, really….  
  
  
  
"'A close friend will become very successful in his chosen career. He will live in a beautiful house and have seven kids.'"

Professor Trelawney glanced up at the class, then at Harry, who had his chin propped up his fist. He half expected her to say, "What rubbish is this, Mr. Potter? All of your predictions are positive! Don't you see that this world is made up of nothing but negative aura?"

_"Seven kids?"_ Ron muttered to Harry in an amused tone. "Who's that unlucky friend of yours?"

"Can't tell you, mate," Harry whispered back. "Best not to flaunt my Inner Eye."

Professor Trelawney continued reading Harry's assignment aloud. "'His wife, another close friend, will also be successful. Both will be respected in the wizarding world, for they will help ensure security among the people.'"

"Then again," Ron was whispering, "it isn't so bad. Wish it were me."

_Me too,_ thought Harry. _Wish it were you._

"_Without_ the seven kids," said Ron.

Professor Trelawney was looking straight at Harry. "How do I know you did not make these up, Mr. Potter?"

Harry had rehearsed what to say in case anything like this came up. "Well, Professor, I can't really prove it," he said confidently. "I could only say what the cards have revealed."

"Hmm. I say you are better in predicting the future with the stars and planets. I was more impressed with your performance last year," said Professor Trelawney, her usual eerie tone becoming a bit stronger. "Your predictions then were more accurate. Not as broad as this. What do you mean by 'successful in his chosen career'?"

"Well…he has to choose, right?"

"Yes, but what career will he _choose_?"

"It won't matter, really, Professor," Harry went on. "What matters is that he and his wife will be successful."

"Loads of tosh," said Ron out of the corner of his mouth.

Professor Trelawney held his parchment up, looking quite angry. "Why does it seem like you're wishing for these things to happen rather than predicting them to happen? These don't look so…realistic! They seem to say that everybody will live to have families of their own! Understand, Mr. Potter, that we have to accept our destiny, whether it may be bad or not!"

Harry felt the heat rising in him. What was wrong with wishing that his friends would have a happy life and have families of their own?

"You can't really alter a wonderful destiny, Professor," said Harry, trying to stop his voice from shaking. "Understand that we have to accept our destiny, whether it may turn out to be good or not."

Professor Trelawney's nose flared. She fixed Harry in a steely gaze that he hadn't seen before. Harry, however, wasn't worried. He thought he knew enough of rough times to put more misery in his 'predictions'.

Professor Trelawney took out another parchment. It was Lavender's. She scanned it for a while, but for once, she didn't seem impressed with her work.

"Miss Brown, I'm surprised at you. True, your predictions aren't so broad, but you failed to look further into the future. What's listed here are predictions for the future indeed—in the next six months! 'Two classmates will admit they love each other and become a couple before the term ends'"—Ron, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan broke into uncontrollable laughter—"'Another classmate will develop feelings for a younger girl and have his heart broken by June, but will be perfectly happy again over the summer.' Not too many details here, either, Miss Brown. Very vague, indeed…."

Harry was glad to get away from the fumes in the Divination classroom after half an hour. Professor Trelawney had gone on and on, criticizing everyone's predictions. Apparently, no one did their homework properly.

"What does she expect us to do? Write a _History of Magic_-sized biography for the future for each of our close friends?" Ron complained.

"Maybe just the size of _Hogwarts, a History_," Harry said gloomily. "Ah, who cares. Let's go to dinner."

"Yeah…"

As Harry and Ron entered the Great Hall for dinner, Harry couldn't help but hear Professor Trelawney's words: _"These don't look so realistic! They seem to say that everybody will live to have families of their own!"_

_Why doesn't having a family seem realistic to her?_ he wondered. _Is having one really that impossible?_

_But…_ Harry stared at his plate. For him, Harry Potter, it _was_ impossible. At least for now, it was. Until he married…or rather, _if_ he ever married and had children of his own—he would never have a family where he felt he truly belonged.

His mind flashed back to his first year, to what he saw in the Mirror of Erised, where he looked into the faces of his family…his beautiful mother, his handsome father, his grandparents…all of them. For perhaps the thousandth time in his life, he reminded himself that although he knew that he and his parents used to be a wonderful threesome fifteen years ago, they were never going to be completely his again.

"What's eating you, Harry?" asked Ron, who had filled his plate with potatoes and chicken legs.

Harry shook his head. "It's Trelawney. Let's just forget it."

"Ah, come on," said Ron. "You did your best."

"Yeah right, my best. I'm a good guesser, then."

"I think I'm better than you, though."

Hermione joined them a while later, raving about her new lesson in Arithmancy (the correlation of the Muggles' principles of Physics to the principles of Arithmancy in relation to the science of the universe). After Ron had argued that he'd rather endure the boredom in the Divination classroom than take in all the Arithmancy principles that might weigh his brain down, the two had begun to bicker (for the nth time).

Harry kept to himself, watching the two. They'd make a lovely couple, he thought, if maybe they'd just stop fighting a bit. Although that could be their own version of being playful….

Harry, Ron and Hermione went back to the Gryffindor Tower after dinner, with Ron and Hermione still fighting.

"If Trelawney's talking realistic, then she should study a precise branch of magic. Arithmancy, for one," Hermione was saying.

"But it doesn't tell you what to expect for the future!"

That was, Harry knew, the complete contradiction of what Ron really thought. Ron always seemed to look for a reason to keep fighting with Hermione.

"If you'll excuse me," said Harry. They didn't even hear him.

Harry went up to their dormitory to drop off his things. But as he reached his bed, he found a fine-looking tawny owl waiting for him on his bedside cabinet.

"Hello," said Harry, taking a closer look at the owl. It seemed to have a small package tied to one of its feet. "For me?"

As if answering, the owl flew to him and perched on his outstretched arm. He used his other hand to untie the package, with difficulty.

It was a small box with a note tied to it.

He gave the owl a grateful pat and it flew out of the window that Harry opened. Harry turned to sit on his bed and read the note, which he immediately recognized as—he had to shake his head to fully believe it—coming from Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster.

  
_Harry,_

_Your parents are celebrating their seventeenth wedding anniversary today in heaven._

_They would have wanted me to give this to their only son. It was found in Godric's Hollow on the second of November fourteen years ago. I just thought this would be the right time for you to finally receive this._

_Professor Dumbledore_

_My parents were married on February twenty-third?_ Harry asked himself, bewildered. Dumbledore, he knew, was away at the moment, but perhaps decided to send the package on this exact date to coincide with his parents' anniversary.

It was as if he already knew what was inside the box. And he was right—it was a ring. Or rather, two rings clasped together. He tried to disengage the two, but he couldn't. They seemed to be clasped together permanently, no matter how hard he tried to pull them apart. But how come? If it had been his parents, the two rings would have not been clasped together unless they walked hand-in-hand even when they had to go to the bathroom…Harry smiled grimly at the thought.

He looked at the rings more closely. Both were made of silver—or perhaps white gold. One had an emerald stone on it—this was probably his mother's. The other was quite plain, except for the engraving of a stag on its band. Looking inside both bands, he found the words "I love you" engraved in identical flowing script on each.

He stared at the rings. They were his parents'. They wore them when they died. Harry reasoned that the rings clasped themselves together when his parents....

The reason why the rings were at that state was beyond his comprehension, but he didn't need to know why. All he knew was that here in his hand was his whole family, the family that he can never have, who loved each other until the ends of their lives, and the simple thought started a prickling feeling in his eyes.

Removing his glasses and wiping his eyes on his sleeve, he put the rings back in the little box, changed into his pajamas, and lay on his bed with his face buried in his pillow. He held the box close to his heart as he wept silently—the first time he ever cried himself to sleep.


	2. Somethin' Stupid

Family

_Chapter Two  
Somethin' Stupid_

The next day, Saturday, found Harry looking outside the window at the sunrise.  
  
He stayed that way until Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville Longbottom woke up.  
  
"Harry?" Neville said groggily as he stood up, stretching. "Whatcha looking at?"  
  
For a moment, Harry stared at Neville. Here was another kid whose family—at least his mum and dad—were taken away from him by the same evil that took Harry's family. _Voldemort._ But that morning, Harry didn't—_couldn't_— feel anger. He could only feel sadness and a painful sense of longing.  
  
He smiled briefly. "Nothing really, Neville."  
  
"Harry!" Ron suddenly said. "_Why_ in the world did you go to sleep so early last night?"  
  
Ron walked over to Harry. Harry wished Ron would just turn away.  
  
"Hey…are you okay?" Ron asked uneasily. "You…you look as if you cried all night."  
  
"Oh." Harry rubbed his eyes. "No, I was just…awake all the time. Didn't get a drop of sleep."  
  
"Yeah, like I believe that." Ron looked at him seriously. "Honestly. Was it something Trelawney said or what?"  
  
"I'm not going to cry over Trelawney, for heaven's sake!" Harry said indignantly. "I'm not that weak."  
  
"I know you aren't," said Ron quietly.  
  
Hermione's reaction was the same.  
  
"What's wrong, Harry?" she said as they met in the common room. "You look really terrible."  
  
"Thanks," he said dryly, "but I'm okay, Hermione."  
  
Harry didn't want to share the discovery of the clasped rings with Ron and Hermione yet. It didn't feel right telling them—or anyone—about it. He felt as if the rings were his alone, for now.  
  
"Hey, guys!" It was Ginny bouncing down the stairs, looking all bright and well. For some reason, Harry didn't want her to look at him and see his face.  
  
Now that was silly. He was a year older than she was, after all, and feeling embarrassed around her didn't seem right. It had been the other way around until last year.  
  
"'Morning," Ginny said in a cheerful tone as Harry felt a light tap on his arm. "Hi, Harry. I never thanked you for the lesson on Thursday night—it really helped me write my essay."  
  
Ron and Hermione had turned away, and it seemed likely that Hermione was asking Ron what had happened to Harry.  
  
Careful not to let Ginny see his eyes, Harry tried to smile. "Anytime, Gin."  
  
Ginny seemed to have sensed Harry's lack of enthusiasm. He felt her grab his arm, and before he could do anything, her soft brown eyes were staring into his.  
  
"Harry," she began softly, her whole attitude changing all of a sudden, "are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said, willing himself to believe it. "Of course…uh, I'm hungry, aren't you? I think I'm going to the Great Hall."  
  
Ginny let go of Harry's arm as he walked towards the portrait hole. He could almost sense her gaze on his back even as he closed the door.  
  
It was a funny thing…but he almost wished for Ginny to run after him. Ginny, of all people.  
  
  
  
"I _told_ you, he wasn't at breakfast!"  
  
"He's gone again! I looked all over the school for him—the library, the Owlery…did you check the kitchens?"  
  
"The first place I went into."  
  
"Any other ideas?"  
  
"Try the portrait hole."  
  
Ron, Hermione and Ginny looked up suddenly as Harry entered the common room at ten in the morning.  
  
"Where _were_ you?" Hermione shrieked, charging towards him. "Ron and I were worried sick about you! We looked all over the school for you!"  
  
"I even braved the cold and went to Hagrid's hut, you know!" Ron almost yelled.  
  
"Hey, calm down, guys," Harry said, holding both palms up. "I didn't want anyone looking for me, you know that."  
  
"But we were worried _sick_, can't you get through your skull?" Hermione snapped. "You can't keep disappearing like this! You've been doing it all year!"  
  
"Hermione," Harry said, removing his winter cloak, "I really appreciate your concern, but a guy's gotta have some time alone too, you know. And I'm okay now—I'm feeling a bit refreshed, actually."  
  
"But you looked so awful when you got out of here," Ginny said quietly; she was the only one who didn't sound hysterical that Harry had gone off.  
  
"Hey, were you thinking I was going to drown myself in that squid's lake?"  
  
Ginny smiled a little. "Well—I wouldn't put it past you," she said.  
  
Harry stared at her. Then he broke into a grin. It felt as if he hadn't smiled for days.  
  
Ginny smiled back—uneasily, at first. Then it widened into that now-familiar cool smile.  
  
"Can I just say he's probably okay now?" Ron muttered to Hermione.  
  
"Ron," Hermione said, shaking her head, "weirdoes like Harry smile one second and jump into the lake the other."  
  
"Jump into the lake?" Ron looked sideways at her. "Weirdoes like Viktor Krum, for instance?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you don't stop mentioning his name, I'm going to strangle you with my bare hands."  
  
The common room was beginning to fill up and get noisier. Fred and George, Ron's twin brothers who were now in their sixth year, were selling a bunch of Ton-Tongue Toffees to enthusiastic second-years. Fred and George waved, and Harry grinned at them, recalling the day when his Muggle cousin Dudley Dursley ate one and had his tongue expanded to the size of a boa constrictor.   
  
"Gee, I hope Fred and George have told them what they really are," Hermione whispered.  
  
"They have," Ron said. "They plan to plant it in their Slytherin classmates' Energy Potion for retaliation after the Slytherins made the Gryffindors' Acne Mixtures blow up."  
  
Harry, Hermione and Ginny grimaced.  
  
"Let me guess—Snape didn't let them go to the hospital wing until after classes," Harry said.  
  
"Typical of him," said Ron. "Remember when Malfoy gave you the long molars, Hermione?"  
  
"Those were incisors," said Hermione.  
  
_"Teeth,"_ said Ron. "Your parents are dentists, I know, I know."   
  
"So where were you all morning, Harry?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Oh…somewhere. Somewhere that I reckon only I know of."  
  
Ginny arched an eyebrow. _(She knows how to do that?)_ "Yeah?"  
  
"You don't believe me, do you?"  
  
She wrinkled her nose. "Not really. But maybe I will when you show me where it is."  
  
Harry had no intention of telling anyone about the "place" he had found that year in Hogwarts. It had been his own sanctuary for months—where he simply sat down and mulled things over.  
  
"Maybe someday," he told Ginny.  
  
Meanwhile, Harry and Ginny hadn't noticed that Ron and Hermione's conversation had moved from teeth, to smarts, to the Triwizard Tournament last year.  
  
"No, really, Hermione. You are _way_ too smart. I humble myself to your omnipotent presence."  
  
"Oh, don't be such a git, Ron, shut up. Don't I have the right to correct you when you are obviously wrong? You're being as insufferable as you were in the Triwizard last year when you wouldn't admit that you were wrong."  
  
"Oh, the Triwizard, eh? Still can't keep Vicky out of your mind, huh?"  
  
"Ron, shut _up_, or I'll make you."  
  
Ginny was shaking her head in disbelief. "Why are you being so secretive this year?"  
  
"Me?" Harry said. "I had loads of secrets since first year and you never bothered."  
  
"Why should I? I knew you were going on well despite everything. But now…I don't know, even Ron and Hermione are worried 'cause they don't know what you're up to."  
  
"I'm not up to anything," Harry said firmly.  
  
Ginny was peering at his face thoughtfully. "Yeah, but…I guess what I'm saying is, you're becoming quite distant. You've…changed a bit. Especially since you started disappearing into this hiding place."  
  
"…Especially since you started to go after him!" Ron's angry voice suddenly broke into their quiet conversation.  
  
"I am _not_ going after him, how many times have I told you!" Hermione shrieked. "I didn't even go to Bulgaria even when he begged me to!"  
  
"Well, geez, I hate to wonder why," said Ron sarcastically. "But I'll give it a shot—you're smitten by some other kid down here, aren't you? Aren't you?"  
  
"Why do you care?"  
  
"Why don't you want to tell me?"  
  
"BECAUSE THAT KID IS YOU, YOU STUPID GIT!"  
  
The whole common room suddenly fell silent.  
  
Harry looked from Ron to Hermione. Hermione had her hands pressed to her mouth, staring at Ron with wide eyes. Ron looked like the full meaning of what Hermione had said suddenly hit him on the head like an overlarge cauldron. 

Then, without warning, the two ran off to separate directions—Hermione to the girls' staircase, Ron to the boys'. They both raced to their respective dormitories.  
  
The other Gryffindors in the common room stared at the two for a few seconds, then a buzz of conversation broke out in the room. Harry noticed that, in the far corner, Lavender and Parvati were giggling madly.  
  
"What was that all about?" Harry asked in astonishment.  
  
"Didn't you hear?" Ginny asked Harry. "Something about being smitten by some kid around here…then Hermione said the kid was Ron…."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped. "You mean…?" 

Now Harry knew how Hermione felt when he and Ron weren't talking last year. He went from one to the other, listening to what they had to say, but both were muttering things quite unintelligible by other human standards.  
  
"I shouldn't've…should've kept my mouth shut…began with teeth…went blank…frustrating me…."  
  
"Only playin'…annoying her…mutt'rin' whatever…Vicky butted in…sh-she said she was smitten with some stupid git that I am…."  
  
"Hey, don't you feel relieved that you've confirmed the feeling is mutual?" Harry asked, only half-joking.  
  
"THAT'S JUST THE WHOLE POINT!" Ron yelled, flapping his arms as if he had wings. "THE FEELING IS MUTUAL! ONLY I NEVER WANTED TO FIND OUT IF IT WAS!"  
  
"You're weird," Harry told him. "If I were you, I would've asked a long time ago."  
  
"You're going to eat your words, Harry," Ron said. "You don't know what it's like when one of your best friends suddenly comes out and says, 'Hey, I'm love-struck with you.' It's…scary."  
  
"But the feeling is _mutual_," Harry insisted.  
  
"But I…I didn't want to hear it from _her_!"  
  
_"What?" _  
  
"I wanted to be the one to tell her…but today's not the right time! I was expecting after maybe three years, I'd ask her out…but not today! Not when we're fifteen! Not when I still _blush_!"   
  
In classes, Ron and Hermione avoided each other by sitting at far corners of the room. Harry did his best to divide his time among them. It was a tough job.  
  
On Wednesday evening, Harry and Ron went into the common room to find Hermione sitting on one of the tables, with a long list of calculations spread out in front of her.  
  
"Hermione—" Harry started to say.  
  
"I'm going to bed," Ron suddenly said, dashing to the stairs. Looking at him from behind, Harry saw that his ears had turned beet red.  
  
The few people in the common room began to laugh—news of the event on Saturday morning had spread among the Gryffindors by Saturday lunchtime.  
  
Harry approached Hermione, who had begun to groan in frustration. "I hate me, I hate me, I hate me," she muttered.  
  
"S'okay, Hermione," Harry teased. "Even though you hate yourself, somebody else loves you."  
  
She glared at him. "Harry, before I hex you, shut it."   
_"'Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two,'" _Harry began to sing in a slightly out-of-tune voice' _"'And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like "I love you"…'" _  
  
_"'I can see it in your eyes that you despise the same old lies you heard the night before,'"_ Seamus, trying not to laugh, joined in. _"'And though it's just a line to you, for me it's true and never felt so right before.'" _  
  
_"'I practice every day to find some clever lines to say to make the meaning come true,'"_ Colin Creevey, who was in Ginny's year, was also singing. His brother, Dennis, followed. _"'But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late and I'm alone with you.'" _  
  
Before long, almost all Gryffindors who were raised by Muggles were singing, and Hermione had buried her head in _Numerology and Gramatica_.  
  
_"'The time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red and oh the night so blue…and then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like "I love you".'" _  
  
Harry leaned a bit closer to Hermione. _"'And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like "I love you…"'"_  
  
"Harry, you great git, shut it," Hermione said through gritted teeth.  
  
_"'And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like "I love you…"'"_ Harry repeated, grinning like a Cheshire cat.  
  
"SHUT UUUUUUUUUUUP!" Hermione screeched, and before Harry knew it, Hermione had her wand pointed at him. She had hexed him. But looking at himself and touching his face, Harry didn't find anything wrong. He still had ten fingers, his limbs were all on the right places, and there was nothing nasty sprouting out of his face.  
  
"Okay," he tried to say, but instead of the words coming out, he burped loudly.  
  
"Urgh," Parvati and a few other girls said in revulsion. Ginny's jaw dropped.  
  
Harry looked uneasily around him. "Hermione," he tried again, but an almighty belch came out. The Gryffindors groaned in disgust, while a few laughed.  
  
Harry gestured at his throat, crossed his heart and held up a hand, as if telling her to remove the hex and he'd stop singing.  
  
_"Vocis!"_ Hermione said with a flick of her wand.  
  
"Ahhh, loads better," Harry said in his normal voice as he massaged his neck. "Let me see if it still works—'But then I go…' I was kidding," he hastily said when Hermione began to twirl her wand on her fingers.  
  
"Nice going, Harry," said Fred, laughing heartily with the others. Hermione glared at him.  
  
"Why do I think I've heard that song before?" asked George.  
  
"It's quite an old Muggle song," said Seamus, still grinning. "My dad had it memorized."  
  
"We heard it on Dad's Muggle wireless, George, just last summer," Ginny told him. "Radio, he called it."  
  
Harry looked at her in surprise. "You listen to Muggle songs?"  
  
Ginny shrugged. "Well, he never really gave us much choice, did he?"  
  
"Ah." Harry nodded. "Like it?"  
  
"Yeah—when I heard it over the radio." Ginny grinned mischievously. "I kinda hated it when you sang it."  
  
Harry snorted in laughter. Now that he thought about it, he realized that Ginny, after all, had quite inherited Ron's sarcastic humor.  
  
He liked it, actually.  
  
  
  
"You prat," Ron groaned at Harry. "You enjoy this, don't you?"  
  
"Trying to get a hold of you and Hermione and _trying_ to convince you to talk to each other again?" Harry shook his head vigorously. "Absolutely not."  
  
After a hurried lunch the next day, Ron had dragged Harry for a walk around the grounds—for Ron to give him a tongue-lashing after the scene the night before.  
  
"I'm going to get you for this, I really am," Ron said. "Trying to exasperate her more, eh?"  
  
Harry sighed dramatically. "Oh yes, of course, Ronald Weasley will do everything to protect the love of his life," he said, clutching his chest mockingly. "How well do I remember you belching slugs for her when a friend of ours called her a Mudblood."  
  
Ron had stopped in his tracks. "And speaking of the devil."  
  
"Well, well." It was Draco Malfoy, Harry's not-so-best-friend in the world over, with his cronies Crabbe and Goyle at his side. "If I've heard right, the Weasel has decided to begin snogging the long molars of that Mudblood."  
  
"They were incisors you lengthened," Ron snapped (Harry had to stop himself from grinning), "and shut up, before I decide to pull yours out."  
  
"Oh, wow, that scares me, that does," Malfoy said in mock fright, and Crabbe and Goyle sniggered stupidly.  
  
"Come on, Ron," said Harry. "This git still hasn't learned to pull out a funny joke."  
  
Harry pulled at Ron's sleeve, dodging a laughing Malfoy.  
  
"You might consider moving out of your excuse for a house when you marry," Malfoy said. "But I doubt you'll buy something much bigger than a fireplace?"  
  
"All right, that does it," said Ron, turning back to Malfoy.  
  
_"Ron,"_ said Harry, grabbing Ron's arm, leading him away. "And you," he continued, looking at Malfoy, "you can get your arse kicked to Mars."  
  
Harry led Ron away to the enormous marble fountain that was still void of water in front of the castle.  
  
And there was Hermione, looking surprised that they were both there.  
  
"What is she _doing_ out here, sitting in the cold?" Ron asked indignantly.  
  
"Ah," said Harry. "Waiting for you. Say I leave you here so that you two can talk? We've got twenty minutes before History of Magic."  
  
"No," Ron growled, his face bloodless. "Not now. Don't leave me."

Harry laughed and pushed Ron towards Hermione. "_Now._ Show some courage—show me that you're a true Gryffindor!"

"Gryffindor my arse," Ron muttered darkly. "Maybe some other time, Harry."

"_Now_, I say. I'll leave you. Look at her, she's expecting you to come. She looks like she wants to tell you something. You going to leave her with a sad face?" he finished with a pitiful voice.

Ron seemed to consider this for a while; he looked at Hermione, who was still staring at them, her expression unreadable.

Ron took in a deep breath and began to walk awkwardly towards her, as if this was costing him his entire life.

Harry, smiling to himself, watched. He saw Ron sit down beside Hermione. They both looked at him, and he jumped back, giving them a small wave. He turned around, heading back to the castle.

As much as he wanted to hear everything Ron had to say, he thought he'd better leave them. This was a private moment, and no matter how close he was to the two of them, some things were not to be shared. Things like this one.

"Well," he said, as if Ron was still beside him, "good luck."

Author's Notes: Huge thanks to Lisa and Amy for beta-reading the first two chapters! You were a great help...I don't know how I'll ever get through my grammar without you, hehehe. =)


	3. Sunset

**Family**

_Chapter Three  
Sunset_

When Ron and Hermione caught up with Harry for History of Magic, it was clear that something had happened. Hermione had smiled at him briefly, quite shyly; then she took her usual seat beside Ron. Ron had a faraway look, a look that Harry had not seen before. And yet Ron and Hermione still didn't seem to want to talk to each other.

In the middle of Professor Binns's boring-as-always lecture, Harry scribbled, "What happened?" on his book and pushed it towards Ron.

Ron's reply was short. "You'll know soon enough."

Harry had to smile.

"So when exactly is 'soon enough'?" Harry asked Ron after Divination as they headed towards the Great Hall.

Ron didn't answer.

Harry looked around him. Ron had disappeared.

Harry, Dean, Seamus and Neville walked back to Gryffindor Tower after eating together at dinner. Harry quickly looked around for Ron and Hermione, but neither one was to be found. Instead, he spotted Ginny on an armchair by the fire, reading.

"Ginny?"

Ginny looked up from _Sciences of the Muggle World_. "Oh, hi, Harry," she said nonchalantly, then went back to her book.

"Have you seen Ron and Hermione anywhere?"

"I thought Ron was with you."

"Yeah, but he disappeared after Divination."

"Mmph," said Ginny.

Harry stared at her. The Ginny of the old days wouldn't do that—she'd probably look away, yes, but this Ginny wasn't even blushing. He again marveled at how much she had changed.

_Now why does that bother you so much?_ a voice inside his head said. _Wish she still had a crush on you, eh, now that she's a lot prettier than before?_

Harry mentally threw a punch at the voice. Ginny, however, was now looking at him with a puzzled expression on her eyes.

"Do I have something on my face?"

Harry couldn't help it. He put a hand on each arm of her chair and leaned down so that their eyes were level. "Look here," he began. "All year you've been nothing but cool to me. You've smiled at me, you thanked me when I helped you with homework—but…look. Are you _mad_ at me or something?"

Ginny gaped at him. "If I were mad at you, would I ask for your help in Muggle Studies?"

"You didn't _ask_ for help."

"Well, would I have thanked you?"

"Yeah, to be cordial," Harry said.

Ginny gave him a disbelieving look. Then, slamming her book shut, she sat up straight and looked back at Harry's eyes. _A bit slanty. Sepia-brown. Sparkling because of the fire behind me. Or maybe that's how her eyes look when she's mad at you? Oh, shut up, Potter._

"_You_ look here," Ginny said with a look that certainly outdid Hermione's dagger stare, "since I was ten years old I acted like a total geek around you. And you never gave me the slightest second glance. I was just Ron's little sister. But I learned to change all of that. You're a great guy and all, but you're not really worth having a crush on—a total waste of time, I finally thought. In fact, I just realized that I don't like you one bit."

Harry blinked. That certainly wasn't the little Ginny he had known. "Uh, is this the part when I'm supposed to say, 'Great, that's minus one stalker'?"

To Harry's surprise, Ginny burst out laughing. She was laughing so hard that tears formed in her eyes. Harry didn't know what to do—he didn't feel like laughing at all.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Ginny said after a while, wiping her eyes. She straightened again, but this time, she was smiling…_warmly_. Towards him. For the first time in…oh, about seven months. Not that he had been keeping count….

"So I should be glad," Harry stated.

"You should rejoice," Ginny said. "Really, Harry. I'm over it. _Really_," she said again when Harry looked doubtful. "I won't send you any more singing cards, I won't put my elbow on my porridge again…you'll finally lead a normal life without me."

"Without you?" Harry was grinning by now. "What kind of a normal life is that?"

"Oh, shut up," Ginny said, grinning back.

It was strange…Harry felt as if something had been lifted from his back, after Ginny gave him that warm smile…_that warm smile, that was something, wasn't it? It was sort of cute…now why am I noticing? _…But the feeling was mixed with a bit of confusion. How could Ginny just manage to say that? It was unnerving…it was something like Ron had said… _"You don't know what it's like when one of your best friends suddenly comes out and says, 'Hey, I'm love-struck with you.' It's scary."_ But something of the opposite—it was a bit scary, when one of the girls you knew was love-struck by you suddenly says, "Hey, I don't like you one bit."

The door to the common room opened. It was Ron and Hermione. Hermione gave Harry and Ginny a smile and a nod, and hurried up to her room. Ron, on the other hand, walked over to Harry.

"I want to talk," he said in a low voice. His face was expressionless.

"Uh…sure." Talk about unnerving. The Weasleys could certainly do that to Harry. Ginny looked back and forth at Harry and Ron, obviously confused.

Ron led the way to their dormitory. When Harry slammed the door shut, Ron faced him.

"Hit me."

"Er—_what_?"

"Hit me. On the face. Really hard."

"Why?" Harry asked. This was really weird, to say the least.

"Just do it," Ron insisted.

Harry hesitated. "Well—okay—it might not be hard enough, but I'll do my best—"

Harry swung his arm back and slapped Ron on the face with all the strength he could muster. Ron staggered back, clutching his jaw.

"Ah…great," he mumbled. "I was awake."

"Awake?" Harry knotted his forehead, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"Yeah…thanks. I was awake," Ron repeated as he walked over to his bed.

Harry watched Ron draw the hangings of his bed closed. He bit back a smile. "Lucky bloke," he muttered.

It was clear in the next few weeks that Ron and Hermione had finally made up—or, as Seamus had aptly pointed out, "probably even made out." Dean and Neville had laughed hard, but Harry had to shake his head in disbelief. He simply couldn't imagine his two best friends doing that, especially after all their bickering.

He still hung out with them, of course. Ron and Hermione were more or less their usual selves, except that the fights took less time than before, and they were more playful. Once or twice, Harry caught the two of them looking at each other, smiling in a way he had never seen before.

But by the time they began to walk along the corridors with Ron and Hermione discreetly touching each others' hand, Harry began to feel like a third wheel. He suddenly felt conscious that they were doing all the sweet stuff couples do, and there he was, acting like a chaperon. As a result, he began to hang out with the other Gryffindors, usually Dean, Neville and Seamus.

By the middle of March, Harry had become quite used to this setup. But sometimes it didn't feel right. Some time ago, they were quite a threesome, brewing Polyjuice Potion in the girls' bathroom and sneaking around the school at midnight. They were, simply put, best friends. He kind of missed them—although he knew he shouldn't feel so, because he was really happy for them, as he had pointed out to Ginny over dinner one Saturday.

"Still alone, aren't you?" she said, sitting down beside him. A couple of fourth-year Gryffindor girls gaped at them.

"Yeah," he replied. "The fun kind of diminished, if you ask me."

"Hmm. Too bad when your two best friends fall in love, eh?"

Harry looked at her. "Is it really? I've always noticed something going on between them."

"Yeah, me too. I've been noticing for ages."

However, as Harry lay on his bed that night, he couldn't help but ponder on a phrase Ginny had used—_fall in love_. Do you really "fall in love", like falling from a broomstick fifty feet high? Did it happen all of a sudden for Ron and Hermione—had Ron fallen with a loud _thump_ on Hermione over Transfiguration one day, when she turned that French poodle into a St. Bernard?

He wasn't sure what it meant yet. But thinking about his two best friends made Harry retrieve the box from under his pillow. He stared at his parents' wedding rings, held fast to each other by some powerful force.

He involuntarily touched his scar—the remnant of the deadly curse that his mother had sacrificed her life for, out of her love for him. _Maybe that's what love is,_ Harry thought, _the greatest force on earth._

Easter Sunday was part of a Hogsmeade weekend. The Hogwarts students, third-years and above, happily marched off to the nearby town.

The first place Harry, Ron and Hermione went into was The Three Broomsticks, the place for their favorite drink.

"Ah, butterbeer!" Harry drank from his tankard in one great gulp. "Blimey, I missed this place."

"Same here," Ron said, drinking from his own tankard quickly—so quickly, in fact, that he almost choked.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione groaned, handing him a napkin and slapping him lightly on his back. "Be careful!"

"Yeah—okay—thanks." After a succession of coughs, Ron gave her a grin that she returned.

Again, Harry felt that he shouldn't be hanging out with the two at this moment. He finished his butterbeer and looked up at Hermione. "Say, uh—I think I'll be dropping off at Gladrags—I'm short of socks after I put a hole on one."

"Oh, okay—we'll just finish this and we're coming—"

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, I'll go by myself."

"But if you're—"

"Come off it, guys, I'll be fine!" Harry rolled his eyes inwardly. After all these weeks, Ron and Hermione still hadn't set aside the notion that he was not okay.

A few minutes later, Harry was walking across the road past the Shrieking Shack. He stopped for a while and stared at it, memories flooding back…it was where he learned the truth about his parents' deaths: who really betrayed them, and how….It was where he met his godfather….

It was a strange thing...everything around him was as quiet as if nothing was happening in the wizarding world. He knew that a great lot was happening indeed, what with...Voldemort returning and the Death Eaters united once again. Yet at this moment, everything was just plain peaceful—too peaceful, in fact. Despite everything that had happened last year, no news of any attack had reached them in Hogwarts. Dumbledore and the others were probably doing a good job of keeping the wizarding world as peaceful as ever....

"Hey—Harry!"

Harry whirled around. He saw Ginny Weasley running towards him from the other end of the road. Her red hair, shining bright copper under the spring sunlight, was flying all about her.

"Hey," Harry said when she caught up to him, panting hard, her cheeks flushed. _She's really cute,_ he thought idly.

"I felt bad seeing you alone, staring at this haunted place." Harry almost let out that it wasn't haunted, but the sight of the two Gryffindor fourth-year girls staring at them from where Ginny had been caught him unawares. "Oh, don't mind them," Ginny said. "They think hanging out with the famous Harry Potter is…you know, something out of the ordinary."

Harry sighed. "They should know I'm just an ordinary kid," he said.

"So I've told them," said Ginny. Harry looked at her, surprised. "What, aren't you?"

"'Course I am," said Harry. "I'm just…well, glad that you look at it that way."

They were walking westward, and they could just see the sun almost touching the mountains on the horizon. Harry sensed Ginny shiver beside him. He felt a sudden urge to hug her warm.

"You cold?" he asked instead, mentally giving his brain a pinch.

"No…I just find the sunset beautiful," she said. There was an amused, dreamy expression in her eyes. "Isn't it?"

"Yeah." The sun, fiery red-orange, cast golden rays across the pinkish clouds around it. They watched it for a while as its bottom began to hide behind the mountains. "You should see the sunrise, though. It's even more amazing to look at."

Ginny looked at him. "You can do that—wake up very early in the morning and watch it?"

"Oh yes—when Wood was still captain of the team, he'd wake us up before sunrise to have a head start at Quidditch," Harry told her. "Our dormitory faces east, and sometimes I wake up early just to look at it—then go back to sleep."

Ginny giggled. "I've never thought of you as a sunrise-type of person, you know."

"What exactly is a sunrise-type of person?"

"Oh, you know…all dreamy and stuff. Always looking for a happy ending—something like that."

Harry grinned. "You ought to know a lot more things about me—but I thought you were an expert already?"

Ginny kicked him hard on the shin—hard enough to make Harry yelp in pain. The two of them laughed out loud; Harry suddenly realized that had never felt more at ease with another girl. And this was not only because Ginny was younger than he was. It was…for some other reason. He couldn't quite put a finger on it.

"You know what, Ginny Weasley?" he contented himself by saying this, and he meant it. "You're all right."

And for the first time since last year, Harry saw a pink tinge creep up Ginny's cheeks.

"Thanks," Ginny replied, her eyes sparkling under the light of the sun.

_Author's Notes: Thank you, Lisa, for all the help; Amy, for clearing up all the British English stuff; and my reviewers. You guys keep me going! =)_


	4. Detention Again

**Family**

_Chapter Four  
Detention Again_

"See you later, guys," Hermione called as she headed for her Arithmancy class, while Harry and Ron went to Divination. "See you, Ron."

"'Bye, my own," Ron said.

Harry's jaw dropped in surprise. "_Your_—what did you call _her_?"

Ron gave him a warning glance as he waved goodbye to Hermione, then steered him towards the Divination classroom.

"_My own_—Hermione minus 'her' and 'nee'," Ron explained.

Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Geez, Ron! Where in the world did you pick up something like that?"

Ron grinned mischievously. "I tell you, Harry, the inspiration comes."

Harry's mouth widened. _"Mush!"_ he exclaimed.

Ron, however, was still grinning. "Ah, come on now, Harry. When your girl comes, you'll probably say even mushier things."

"I won't," said Harry as they ascended a staircase. "I'm looking at you now, and I don't want to look like you—ever."

"Harry," Ron said in the serious tone of a professor, "girls do those things to you. When you're totally in love with one, you'll do things you never thought you'd do."

Never, even in Harry's wildest imagination, had he thought Ron would say such things.  
  
"Is it really that great, Ron?" Harry found himself asking.

Ron's eyes were practically gleaming. "Oh yeah…I mean, it's a different feeling, having a warm body just beside you—"

Harry's eyes widened in shock.

"—and you've got the liberty to just reach out and hug it, you know. And of course, it's this…feeling that you're with someone you can give your whole heart to."

"Looks like you've fallen pretty hard," Harry commented, marveling at how scrawny, freckly Ron Weasley ended up giving love advice to an ignorant bloke like him. Just last year, Ron had told Hermione that he would only go with someone whose nose was in the right place. He looked at Ron sideways; Ron was staring at something invisible with his eyes glazed, grinning to himself stupidly. 

Harry had to stifle an amused laugh.

Potions class on Thursday afternoon was as unbearable as always. Snape was giving a lecture on how to make a Forgetfulness Brew. It seemed to Harry that Snape was overly keen on testing the particular potion on him, although he hoped he wouldn't find out why on that particular day.  
  
"This potion will make you like Longbottom with an even more slippery brain," Snape told the class. The Slytherins snickered, and Neville turned into a bright shade of red. "_If_ there _is_ such a thing. A good brewing of this will make you forget just about everything in half a day's time, from your lessons to the fact that your girlfriend is sitting beside you."  
  
Ron nudged Hermione on her side. Hermione, who appeared to be listening intently, rolled her eyes.   
  
"I must warn you that being caught using this potion on a schoolmate without reversing it with a Remembering Brew is punishable by detention." Harry noticed that Snape's face suddenly became rigid. "It has happened before, and _I_ was the unfortunate victim—"  
  
"Because you're a dunderhead," Ron muttered.  
  
Harry had to bite the inside of his mouth to refrain from laughing.  
  
"—and the person responsible was caught and given a detention. He put the brew in my morning coffee as a prank just before the Charms, Divination and Potions examinations—and a harebrained prank it was. Trust some self-glorifying, rule-breaking Gryffindor Chaser to pull it on me."  
  
Snape's cold, black eyes traveled across the room and landed on Harry. Harry suddenly knew what Snape was on about.  
  
"And I hope some of you here wouldn't _dare_ follow in their fathers' footsteps."  
  
Harry gritted his teeth. _Slimy git, couldn't even leave Dad alone in the middle of a Potions class. It's been about twenty years since they've seen one another._ Because Harry knew that he would burst out swearing if he did as much as open his mouth, he tried to amuse himself. _Maybe he was jealous of Dad because he had a crush on Mum. And he sort of sees Dad in me 'cause I look just like him. Or maybe he's gay and he likes Dad, and he's mad that Dad liked Mum and then I was born? Ha ha, funny one, Potter._  
  
"That was indeed a funny one, Potter," Snape told Harry as Harry measured two cups of turtle urine.  
  
_Wonder what it tasted like when Dad made you drink this stuff?_ he mentally asked Snape. Snape was always doing this—infuriating Harry until he could give him detention and take points away from Gryffindor.  
  
"Just remembering my grades makes me want to take revenge on you," Snape continued. "You would, of course, consent to taking responsibility for your father's idiocy?"  
  
"Don't call Dad an idiot in front of me," Harry said in a menacing voice. "I'd hate to think what you did to him that made him slip this brew into your coffee."

Snape's eyes flared. "If you must know, no one had to do anything to make your father do such insufferable mischief. James Potter did nothing but prance about the place in his overlarge Quidditch robes, acting like he owned the castle, which was in total contradiction to the complete fool he really was—"  
  
Three jugs of potion ingredients suddenly burst into pieces behind Snape. Their foul odor suddenly filled the room.

"LOOK! SHUT UP! DON'T GIVE ME ALL THAT B—!"

A long, stifling silence followed.

He had done it. He had lost control. The whole class stared at Harry and Snape, the Gryffindors with their mouths open in shock and horror.

"Eighty points from Gryffindor," Snape growled, his eyes alight with fury. "And a detention you won't soon forget. If you ever utter a swear word in front of me again, I'll make sure you get expelled from this school."

Harry didn't care; he didn't give a damn that he had just lost eighty points for Gryffindor. There was a ringing in his ears, his hands were clenching and unclenching themselves, and his teeth were grinding together.

_"Eighty points!"_ Hermione squealed angrily as they got out of the dungeons a while later. "Eighty points at one go, Harry! I know he was being really...but _really_! Why didn't you just say something _else_?"

Harry was still angry, so angry that he was still causing small things like Hermione's quill to shrivel. "What, rephrase it like, 'don't give me all that male cow muck'? I wouldn't bother saying it like that when he just called my dad a fool and an idiot." He glared at Ron. "What did you say to Malfoy the last time he insulted your family?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Hermione stared at her feet.

"You're lucky he's just Malfoy," Harry went on, stomping. "Snape can be a pain in the arse at times."

Harry scrubbed the dungeons on Friday night.

It was worse than scrubbing the whole of the Great Hall. Liquids that burnt holes on the tables kept spilling everywhere. Each nook and cranny seemed to hold a unique smell of its own. Rats darted here and there; spiders scuttled everywhere. He didn't know where to put the scattered frog brains, dragon livers, rat droppings, and all of the other potion ingredients. At the end, he just gathered them (with his bare hands) and threw them all down the drain.

He smelled like a cauldron of Polyjuice Potion himself as he quietly entered the common room at half past one in the morning. He was greeted not by a person, but by a sweet-sounding singing voice that suddenly made his heart light.

_"Each night I pray…that we can be together once again….   
Forevermore we'll stay in love this way   
No matter what they say   
Until the end—"_

Harry had to lean back against the wall. Never in his whole life had he dreamt of hearing a voice as beautiful as this. For a moment there, with his whole body still aching, he closed his eyes as if willing the melody to take him…it was as if the voice was singing to him….

_ "You and I, we have moments left to share   
You and I, we can make it anywhere—"_

He saw his mother. He didn't know why. She was smiling at him; her green eyes were sparkling like mad—then she broke into a wide grin. He never knew she was that beautiful. She was walking towards him—

_"You and I, we belong in each other's arms   
There can be no other love   
Now I know we can have it all...forever."_

The voice suddenly stopped. As Harry opened his eyes, he saw someone emerge from one of the armchairs in front of the fire.

It was Ginny.

"Harry! You—you smell like dung."

The aftereffects of the vision suddenly vanished when Harry saw Ginny's startled and—a nanosecond later—amused look. He smiled wryly. "I've noticed." He looked at her curiously. "Was that you singing?"

"Yeah," she said, turning back to look at the fire. Harry felt that she was probably blushing again. "Why?"

"I just—I was thinking that...you have a beautiful voice."

When Ginny looked at him again, she was indeed blushing and grinning. "Why, thanks, but…can I just say I don't feel the need to talk to someone who smells like dungbombs? How about taking a shower first before we talk?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "You want to talk? Aren't you sleepy yet?"

"I slept right after dinner and woke up just before midnight," said Ginny.

"You have funny sleeping hours," Harry commented.

Ginny smiled mischievously. "You wouldn't say that if I told you I caught Ron and Hermione down here. They were—supposed to be waiting for you." Her grin widened.

"Gee," Harry said dryly. "I wonder what they were doing instead."

About ten minutes later, Harry had gone down to the common room again. He was wearing pajamas, and his thick black hair was a wet mess on his head. For some reason, he took his Invisibility Cloak with him.

Ginny was still sitting on the armchair, staring into the fire. She looked up at Harry when he arrived.

"Do you normally do this?" Harry asked, removing his glasses and wiping a drop of water from the lenses. "You wake up at midnight, stare into the fire, and sing to yourself?"

"Nope," said Ginny. She was staring at him with an unreadable expression in her eyes. "At least, not normally. This is just one of those nights."

"Tell me about it," Harry groaned as he sat down on an armchair. "I mean, this is one of those nights. Snape and Filch can be dead murderous."

Harry closed his eyes and began to rub his shoulders until he felt a pair of hands on them.

"Want some help?" Even as Ginny said it, she was already sitting on the arm of his armchair, pressing her fingers on the base of his neck.

Harry's face suddenly felt hot. He was lucky he had the back of his head toward her; otherwise she would have seen his face at its reddest. But then again, maybe the back of his neck and ears were just as red.

Once, back at Privet Drive, he had caught Dudley watching TV at midnight. Dudley's reaction was priceless, but the…thing…that he saw on the screen was unpleasantly unforgettable. The "thing" kept popping back into his mind right then and there, while Ginny's soft hands worked down his shoulders. _Why_ did the blonde woman have to gobble that bloke on the neck like that? And she had gone on…and on….

Harry shuddered. "No, really—I think I'll be fine—"

"Yeah, right," she said, continuing to massage his shoulders. "Come on—I mean, I used to give Fred and George one of these—they say I'm a lot better than Mum. Don't tell me you don't like it."

Harry didn't. It wasn't that she didn't soothe the most painful parts on his shoulders, arms and back—it was just that he felt rigid on his seat, apprehensive at the thought of a girl's touch on his skin. And it wasn't any girl; this was Ginny Weasley, and her touch was wonderfully warm and soft.

In time, though, he began to relax. He was so tired that he began to close his eyes and sigh with relief. This was good. This was _really_ good….

"I heard what you did at Potions last Thursday," Ginny said, breaking the silence.

Harry kept his eyes closed, but grinned. "You mean that word I yelled at Snape?"

"Yeah—and I heard why you said it in the first place."

Harry didn't say anything.

"I thought that was mighty brave of you, and I'm proud of you."

Harry opened his eyes. "Proud of what? My choice of words?"

"No—for sticking up for your parents."

"I could have said it without making Gryffindor lose eighty points," Harry said, cringing slightly when he remembered what he had done. Gryffindor was out of the lead once more—Slytherin was now about forty points up.

"Yeah—but who cares. Everyone here feels that Snape had been too much."

Harry didn't reply again. It was Ginny, again, who spoke up—this time in a tender tone.

"Do you miss them, Harry?"

Harry never talked to anyone about his family before, unless he counted that short conversation with the reporter Rita Skeeter just last year.

"Yeah," he said, and he was surprised at how smoothly his voice came out. With Ginny, it was like that. It was like he could share a piece of himself with her. "Of course. I couldn't help but wish they were still here." He smiled solemnly. "Not that _your_ family's not great, Gin, 'cause you guys have been nothing but great."

He heard Ginny sigh sadly as she rested her hands on his shoulders. "Still, nothing's better than having both of your parents with you, right?" Her voice broke slightly.

Harry's thoughts unconsciously drifted back to his parents' wedding rings. "Nothing at all," he said quietly. And as he said it, he suddenly felt as if there was something heavy settling on his chest and burrowing into it.

At that moment, his stomach gave out a huge groan.

Ginny stopped massaging his shoulders and stepped back. "Oh, _Harry_," she moaned, "does that mean you haven't eaten _dinner_ yet?"

Harry stood up and smiled at her. "Snape's that mean." He picked up the Invisibility Cloak he had been sitting on all the while, and inspiration came to him—sudden, mischievous inspiration. "Look, I know I'm being a bad influence and your mum wouldn't be too happy if she found out, but…if I told you I was sneaking into the kitchens, would you come with me?"

Harry watched Ginny's mouth fall open in shock. "But—but you just got detention tonight!" she managed to croak out.

"Like I told you, this is one of those nights." Harry grinned once more, his green eyes glinting impishly. "Might as well make the most of it. Look," he added when Ginny still looked skeptical, "I promise I'll do all the work if Filch catches us and puts us in detention."

_Author's Notes: Thanks to Lisa (NightZephyr), my wonderful beta reader, for straightening this difficult chapter out. :)_


	5. Night Out

**Family**

_ Chapter Five  
Night Out_

"I can't believe I let myself do this."

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Ginny were crouched under the Invisibility Cloak, tiptoeing their way to the kitchens, Harry squinting into the Marauder's Map under the light of his wand.

"The rewards are invaluable, trust me," whispered Harry.

Peeves the Poltergeist was bobbing up and down in the trophy room; Snape was in his bedroom (and so were the other teachers); Mrs. Norris was far from where they were right then, and so was Filch. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he led Ginny to the portrait of the fruits, which was just ahead.

"Tickle the pear," Harry whispered. _"Nox!"_

_ "What?"_

"Tickle the pear."

Under the dim light of the moon shining from a nearby window, Harry saw Ginny look at him as if he had lost his wits. Then she shrugged and obliged.

"Harry Potter!"

Next thing Harry knew, he was knocked to the floor by a house-elf that had grabbed him by the waist. "Harry Potter has come to see Dobby!"

Harry groaned out loud. "Yeah—uh, hi Dobby." Despite Harry's fondness of the house-elf, this part of stealing food from the kitchens had always proved to be the worst.

Ginny was staring at Harry and Dobby in shock. Upon seeing her, Dobby climbed off Harry's stomach and bowed lowly to her. "How do you do, miss? Can Dobby get you anything?"

"Er—hi," Ginny said unsurely, a lopsided grin on her face. She looked around, at the dozens of house-elves who all looked so happy to see them in the kitchens after midnight. "Er…no…I think Harry does, though…."

"Yeah," Harry grunted, sitting up. His expression suddenly brightened. "Do you still have—hmm…roasted chicken legs, potatoes and gravy? Oh, and please throw in an apple pie—and blueberry cheesecake, only if you have it of course—"

Delightedly, the other house-elves walked away, and almost immediately came back with just what Harry had asked for. But when the house-elf carrying the blueberry cheesecake arrived—

"LILY EVANS!"

Harry's head shot up at the name of his mother being called. But the house-elf—it looked like a girl, but old—there were more lines on her green face, and her eyes had a droop in them—the house-elf dropped the tray she was holding and ran towards…_Ginny_.

Ginny was suddenly seized at the waist, like Harry just a while ago; Ginny had backed off to the wall behind her, but the house-elf was still hugging her.

"Lily! Nana is not believing this miracle! Lily Evans came back!"

"B—but…" Ginny was taken aback in shock and confusion. "…My name is Ginny Weasley."

Harry looked at Dobby, who was staring at the other elf rather sadly. "Nana is knowing your parents, sir," Dobby explained. "Nana is telling Dobby that since Harry Potter visited the kitchens, sir."

Dobby went to Nana and tried to pull her off Ginny. "She is not Lily Evans, Nana," he said. "Lily Evans is gone now, and Nana knows that."

"He's right," said Harry in a calm voice that surprised even himself. "That's my friend, Ginny Weasley. She's Ron's sister—you know—my Wheezy."

The house-elf Nana stared at Ginny for a while. Then comprehension mixed with disappointment crossed her face. If it were possible for a house-elf to blush, Nana was surely doing it.

"Oh—Miss—Nana is terribly sorry, Miss—" Nana seemed to be on the verge of tears as she backed away. "N-Nana just t-thought…."

"It's all right," Ginny said quickly. She took a glance at Harry. "Isn't it?"

"What? Oh yeah," said Harry. He flashed Nana a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I mean—that's great—you still remember my mum."

Tears brimmed Nana's large eyes. "Lily Evans was always kind, and gentle, and loving, and giving, and selfless," squeaked Nana, and she blew her nose on the pillowcase she was wearing. The tears fell down her pitiful face when she spoke again. "Nana will never ever forget Harry Potter's mother, sir."

"You've been here long, then?"

"Yes sir," Nana answered. She blew her nose again. "Even back in the days when James Potter and his friends visited us here, sir."

"Oh." Harry's face fell once more.

By this time, the other house-elves were pulling Nana towards the stoves at the other end of the room. "We house-elves must always be happy serving our masters!" one reproached Nana, which was strange because he was surely ages younger than Nana. "Nana is a bad house-elf, crying in front of our guests!"

Dobby shook his head. "Poor Nana," he almost whispered, but immediately lighted up as he handed Harry a basket. "Here is your food, Harry Potter…Dobby put the blueberry cheesecake in."

Harry took the basket of food. He suddenly lost his appetite—he even felt like he had lost his stomach as well.

"Thanks, Dobby," he said, forcing himself to smile, even for the house-elves' sake.

"You are most welcome anytime, Harry Potter!" squeaked Dobby. "And you too, Miss Wheezy!"

"Thank you so much," Ginny, who had been quiet for a while, said graciously; the house-elves bowed at her.

"C'mon." Harry took her arm and led her outside.

Harry and Ginny quietly left the kitchen. Harry draped the Invisibility Cloak over Ginny and himself.

"Harry, you okay?" Ginny said gently.

Harry secured the Cloak over Ginny. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "Let's—"

"You're not," said Ginny. "Harry—"

"Ginny."

Harry's voice was low and grumbling. Ginny kept quiet. There was heavy, eerie silence over them as they headed back to Gryffindor Tower. All Harry heard of the two of them were their mutual labored breathing as they climbed the six flights of stairs back to the tower…until—

Harry and Ginny fell over in front of a knight's armor. Ginny let out a shriek, coupled by a cat's; the basket rolled out of their reach, and the Marauder's Map flew to the feet of the armor.

"Mrs. Norris!" Harry gasped. He saw Filch's cat dart out of the corner. Both of them were so lost in thoughts that they had tripped over her.

Ginny crawled quickly to retrieve the basket; Harry stood up, seized the blank Marauder's Map and grabbed her hand to help her up. As he did, he heard Filch.

"Who was it, my sweet? Who screamed?"

Ginny stifled a cry. Heart pounding hard on his ribs, he pinned Ginny by his side on the wall beside the armor and wrapped the cloak over the two of them. He had just covered their legs when Filch appeared, Mrs. Norris sniffed around her.

"Where did they go?" Filch asked his cat. His eyes flashed—he looked quite pleased to discover that a student will get detention in just over an hour since Harry finished cleaning the dungeons. Ginny was clutching Harry's arm—he could just feel her cold palms on it. She was trembling slightly. _Why_ hadn't he bothered to check the Marauder's Map as they made their way back?

They both stiffened when Mrs. Norris began sniffing at their feet. She poked at Ginny's fluffy pink slippers. Harry suddenly became aware of the aroma of the roasted chicken from the basket. He closed his eyes, praying Filch hasn't noticed.

And he hadn't. Filch picked something up from the ground—a slice of blueberry cheesecake.

"They can't be far," growled Filch. "I can still smell food…come on, my sweet, let's find them."

Filch, lantern held up high, turned the opposite direction from that of the Gryffindor Tower. Mrs. Norris was still looking straight at Harry and Ginny, as if she could see them there like they weren't wearing the Invisibility Cloak. But then, she turned, following her master.

Harry and Ginny let out their breath. Not wanting Filch to notice that the aroma has diminished on his way, Harry hastily led Ginny to the Gryffindor Tower.

Harry removed the Invisibility Cloak as they approached the portrait hole to the common room. "W-walrus blubber!" Harry gasped to the Fat Lady.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" the Fat Lady scolded them, but let them in all the same.

As soon as they got in, Ginny collapsed on an armchair, still breathing hard. Harry looked at her anxiously—she seemed to be hyperventilating, or something—

Suddenly, Ginny began to giggle. Then she laughed—and laughed hysterically at that. Harry watched her for a while—she looked as if she didn't know how close she came to getting a detention. Sweat was running down the sides of her flushed face, and yet there she was, her mouth wide in a grin, her laughs coming from deep in her throat.

Harry set the Invisibility Cloak and the basket down. A slice of blueberry cheesecake was still left inside the basket. He stared at it, remembering the house-elf.

So his parents regularly "visited" the kitchens in their time, too. He knew they were both of good heart, as many others told him countless of times. He supposed he should be happy—he had always been happy when someone told him of how wonderful his parents were when they were still alive—but for some reason, at that moment—like every other moment in his whole fifth year when he thought about them—he wasn't happy at all.

Almost unconsciously, he reached for his pajama pockets.

And came up with his parents' wedding rings.

"Harry," Ginny finally said, looking sideways at him, "this is the most amazing night in my whole life, you know that?"

Harry turned to her, and the wide smile on her face slowly faded upon seeing his.

For a long while, their gazes locked with one another's. Ginny's brown eyes became unfathomable orbs, became windows to her own soul, and Harry saw his own emotions reflected on them. And at that moment, he knew that she understood.

Ginny stood up, walked towards Harry, and pulled him into an embrace.

Harry didn't understand what he was feeling at first. Mrs. Weasley and Hermione were the only women he could remember hugging him, and he felt a different emotion for each—but this one was different, foreign. He felt warm and serene and content, and somewhere inside his chest he felt a painful pinch that made him limp with delight, and at the same time he wanted to break down and cry.

Although he tried to prevent it, the third emotion prevailed. Harry wound his arms around Ginny as he felt tears fight their way out of his eyes. "Damn," he heard himself mutter, and chuckled. "I wasn't a crybaby when I was younger, and look at me now." He ran the back of his hand harshly across his face.

"It's all right," Ginny whispered to his ear. Her voice was sweet and soothing. "It's okay to cry."

"They spoke to me last year, Gin," Harry went on, unable to contain himself any longer. "They saved me one last time. They helped me escape. I saw them, Gin…."

Ginny held him closer to herself. "I know, Harry."

"At that moment I realized how badly I missed them, and how I wanted them back, and all year I've thought about nothing else but—them." And at that point, he broke down completely.

Harry wanted to curse himself. He had tried to suppress his loneliness all year, but he had failed in doing so that night, since Ginny gave him permission to cry. He had promised himself no one else would know about how touchy he became this year when it came to his parents'. It slowly showed, unfortunately.

"This is stupid," Harry said suddenly, pulling himself out of Ginny's arms and removing his glasses. As he did, the rings he was clutching fell to the carpeted floor. "I shouldn't cry over them, I can't bring them back. I know I can't."

Ginny was quiet as Harry picked up the rings. Through the blur created by his tears, he noticed something different about them. He quickly wiped his glasses on his pajamas.

Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the emerald on his mother's ring was glowing, making it even greener than before. The stag engraved on his father's was also glowing—there was a yellow-orange light in it.

"What is it?" Ginny asked.

Harry held out his palm to her, with the rings in them. "They're my parents'. It's strange, though—I've never seen them glow before."

Ginny's eyes widened at the sight of the rings. "Wow," she whispered throatily. "Harry—can I—?"

"Go on," said Harry.

Ginny picked up the emerald ring and held it in front of her eyes. "It's…beautiful," she said slowly.

Harry, however, was staring at his palm. His father's ring was still there.

"Hang on," he gasped. "How did you—why did that ring—?"

Ginny knotted her forehead as she handed the ring back to Harry. He pressed the bands together, trying to clasp them together again—but he couldn't. It seemed as if they had simply unclasped themselves at Ginny's touch. He explained this to Ginny.

"B-but…I didn't do anything!" she stammered. "I just picked it up and…."

"I know, I know," Harry said, confused as ever. He didn't know what it meant at all. But something inside him told him to do something—

He took Ginny's hand and placed the emerald ring on her palm. "I want you to have this," he whispered. As he did, he suddenly realized the absurdity of what he was doing—for he didn't know why he was doing it.

"Why?" Ginny was as confused as he was.

"Would you…believe me if I say something inside me tells me to give it to you?" said Harry. "Dumbledore gave me those rings clasped together, and I doubt anyone else has made those rings unclasp themselves."

"But…it's your mother's."

"Maybe—just maybe—she's the one telling me that you should have it."

Ginny looked up at him, sympathy written all over her eyes. She probably thought that Harry was still being stupid, bawling over his dead mum. Finally, she nodded firmly and put the ring on her right ring finger. "Thank you," she whispered.

Harry put his father's ring on his own right ring finger. It fit him perfectly.

Ginny began to smile again, and passed him the basket of food. "Well—the hungry ones go first, of course."

The hunger pangs went back in Harry's stomach. "Right," he said. He took out a chicken leg, which had gone quite cold, but was as delectable as if they had just come out of the oven. Ginny had begun on the potatoes, but she was still looking at Harry as though he was about to burst any moment.

"Look," Harry told Ginny when he noticed her staring at him, "I'm sorry about a while ago. I was just—I dunno…just…don't stare at me as if I'm going to blubber again."

Ginny smiled wryly and shook her head. "You just have a bit of chicken on your nose."

And so it went on. Harry and Ginny talked, laughed and ate in the Gryffindor common room, with Harry forgetting about the crying spell he just had a while ago. He felt decidedly better afterwards. As the first rays of sunlight entered the windows, Ginny fell into sleep. Harry watched her for some time until he himself felt sleepiness overcoming him—but not without a last peek at Ginny, who was smiling as she slept, just to make sure that she was safe and comfortable.

If they hadn't been that sleepy, they would have noticed that the rings were still glowing.

* * *

"I'm _dying_ here," James Potter muttered to himself.

Sirius Black, James's best friend, looked sideways at him. James was tugging at the collar of his navy blue dress robe.

Sirius laughed. "Is it just because of your dress robe or because you're burning with jealousy?"

"I'm not," James snapped, his face reddening. As he did, he threw (for probably the two hundredth time that night) a glance at the dance floor—where Lily Evans danced a lively tune with a partner.

Sirius snorted. "Yeah. Right."

It was the Yule Ball of James Potter's fifth year, and his first. Nothing eventful had happened all night—at least at him. Sirius had already gone up to dance with a few Gryffindor girls. James, on the other hand, knew perfectly well that there was only one girl he wanted to dance with. And there she was, dancing a fast song with their friend, Peter Pettigrew.

"I'm going to _strangle_ Wormtail," James said between gritted teeth. "Who is he to ask her to dance? He was just sitting _beside_ me, and he suddenly got up. He _knows_ I wanted to ask her out."

"Better ask her to dance already after this song," said Sirius, grinning.

James also knew that Lily had gone alone to the ball. He was supposed to ask her, but he was, as Sirius had constantly reminded him, too chicken to do so. He was afraid he was going to spoil the platonic friendship he had built with her—and she had been a great friend to him indeed.

"You've got a problem, though," Sirius had pointed out. "_You_ like her not just as a friend."

Lily shared a table with some who'd others call social outcasts—all of them apparently without partners. James had seen that she had kept a conversation going, and after about fifteen minutes since she had joined them, the others had begun to feel much, much better. She had danced with the guys who were on her table all night. She almost didn't stop dancing. She was flushed, yet she was still beaming beautifully; indeed, she looked as if she was having the time of her life.

That was Lily Evans.

James sighed. Lily was just being herself. He had no reason to be jealous at all.

"All right," Sirius suddenly said. "The song's almost over—be prepared, now."

James took a deep breath, as if getting ready for a five-hundred-meter dash. The last chords of the song were struck by the band, and he stood up.

"Hurry," Sirius growled. "You're a stag, not a chicken."

James tugged at his collar again and walked towards Lily. A slow song had started. _Talk about timing,_ James thought.

"Er—Lily," he called out although he was still a few yards away from her.

Lily whipped around, still smiling after her last dance; as she did, her flowing red hair tossed itself backwards. She was wearing an emerald green gown, enhancing her lovely eyes. Her smile widened as her gaze fell on James, and James suddenly felt as if something was writhing inside his stomach.

She walked towards him, still wearing that dazzling smile. "Hi, James," she said.

"Hi," James managed to croak out. "Uh—may I…have this dance?" He made a mental note to ask Sirius for a better line after this.

However, Lily simply held her skirt on her sides and curtseyed teasingly. "By all means, Mr. Potter."

James's nervousness magically disappeared; he grinned back and bowed lowly. Then, still grinning, he wound his arms around her waist as Lily put hers around his shoulders, and they began swaying on the spot.

_"You and I, we have moments left to share  
You and I, we can make it anywhere—" _

_"'You and I, we belong in each other's arms'," _Lily began to hum softly, looking straight at his eyes. Her voice sounded as fresh and wonderful as the spring breeze. _"'There can be no other love…now I know we can have it all…forever….'"_

All James could do was to gaze back into Lily's sparkling eyes, sensing their depth, knowing that the loving expression on them were also present on his own. _I love this girl,_ he thought, sighing, for something heavy and yet fantastic seemed to build up in his chest. _I just do. I really, really do._

It was the most intimate he had ever been with Lily Evans in his whole life, and he knew he wouldn't trade that single, perfect moment for the world.

_Author's Notes: "Forever" is sung by Regine Velasquez and Martin Nievera. I don't own anything!  
Thanks to Lisa and Amy, my beta readers, for straightening these difficult chapters out. Okay, okay, I know Harry cries a lot... ;) Please review!_


	6. The Big Brother

**Family**  
  
_Chapter Six  
The Big Brother_

"Hey. Harry. Wake up."  
  
Someone was prodding him awake. He rolled about, not wanting to be disturbed. He was having a dream—and it was a great one—  
  
"Ginny, it's morning!"  
  
Harry groped around for his pillow to cover his ears, but found none; he instantly realized that he was on an armchair by the fireplace in the common room. He had fallen asleep there last night.  
  
He opened his eyes a crack and saw the blurry face of Hermione.  
  
"What time is it?" he asked sleepily.  
  
"Seven-thirty," someone else said. It was Ron.  
  
"Still early," said Ginny.

It suddenly hit Harry. He had fallen asleep in the common room. With Ginny. _Ron_ was there. And he had caught them.

Harry was awake all of a sudden. He reached down for his glasses, which was on the floor. When Ron's face came into focus, Harry saw that he was wearing the sternest face he had ever seen on his friend.

"What were you two doing all night?"  
  
"Ron," Hermione said bracingly.  
  
Ginny yawned and stretched. "We were talking and eating," she replied. She wore a wistful expression on her face. "That's all."  
  
"After midnight?"  
  
"I—got some food from the kitchens," said Harry. He wouldn't dare tell Ron Ginny had been with him.  
  
"Oh, but of course," Ron said sarcastically, still fixing Harry with a suspicious glare.  
  
"Look," Harry said, standing up. "We slept on separate armchairs. They're about three feet apart. We're innocent."  
  
"Don't be stupid, Ron," said Ginny—but in Harry's opinion, she was saying it the wrong way, for she was still smiling dreamily as if something _had_ indeed happened to her and Harry that Ron shouldn't know.  
  
Ron stared at his sister for a while, then looked away. "Go to bed, Ginny."  
  
Ginny yawned once more. "'Hanks," she said.  
  
Harry took the Invisibility Cloak from the armchair he had slept in. "I think I'm going to bed, too."  
  
Ron opened his mouth, as if to say "I don't think so," but Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder. Harry took the opportunity to sprint towards the boys' staircase.  
  
"G'night, Harry," Ginny called. She still had that smile on.  
  
Harry smiled back, blushing hard—especially when he saw Ron and Hermione looking at the two of them searchingly. "Good morning, Gin."  
  
As Harry entered his room and collapsed on his canopy bed, he suddenly remembered the dream he just had. It had been so clear when he was still dreaming it, but it had slipped from his memory now that he was awake. He knew, though, that it had been himself—and Ginny. And he had been dancing with her. And there was this other guy—he looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place a finger on who he was.  
  
But…now that he thought about it…it didn't seem like it was him and Ginny. But it had felt like it was he…and the girl there felt like it was Ginny….  
  
Deciding to think about it later on when he was fully awake, Harry closed his eyes and fell asleep again.

* * *

"How did you find the entrance to this place?"  
  
James slipped the Invisibility Cloak off of himself and Lily. He had taken her to a wide marble terrace near the North Tower, where they had a clear view of the night sky, on which the stars were winking down on them as if teasing them for being alone together there.  
  
James smiled at Lily. "By doing what I do—exploring the castle."  
  
James clambered on the wide immaculate white railing and sat down on it. He swiveled around so that his feet were dangling above the Hogwarts grounds, which seemed to be a mile below.  
  
"James, don't do that," Lily chided, looking worried. "You might lose your balance!"  
  
"Me? Lose my balance?" James puffed his chest outward. "James Potter doesn't lose his balance."  
  
"Ha ha," said Lily sarcastically. "Don't think I'd Summon you or something if you fell from there."  
  
"Come on." James patted the flat top of the railing beside him. "This is fun."  
  
Lily hesitated for a while, then sat down beside James, but faced the castle so that her feet were above the terrace floor.  
  
James watched Lily look up at the stars and smile to herself. The stars were reflected on her incredibly green eyes, making them sparkle like two bright emeralds. Her lips were slightly parted, and James noticed how thin and soft and red they looked—  
  
"'Fun' doesn't begin to describe this place," Lily whispered. She suddenly let out a gasp; at the same time, James saw two flashes of yellow-orange dart across the sky. "Shooting stars!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Wow," James sighed. "First time I've seen one in years."  
  
Lily grinned at him. "And you saw two," she said softly. "Must be your lucky night."  
  
"Must be…."  
  
James's voice got caught in his throat. Lily was gazing at him differently, and it was as if her eyes were magnets, pulling his face close to hers.  
  
He bent down and touched her lips briefly with his.  
  
It was a strange, electrifying moment; he felt a heavy weight on his stomach, yet didn't acknowledge it; when he pulled back, he realized that he was blushing, and so was Lily. Yet she fixed him with a gaze that held his.  
  
And she spoke. "Why?" Just one word.  
  
James knew that he looked just like Lily did just then: blushing at the sudden, unexpected kiss, yet wanting to repeat the moment.  
  
"I…" James began. His stomach began to writhe again, knowing that he didn't have an answer. "I…don't know."  
  
Lily's gaze didn't falter. To the contrary, she looked satisfied with his reply.  
  
Then she smiled and took his hands in hers. "Maybe you'll know someday, James." She gave his hands a squeeze. "And maybe I will, too."  
  
James didn't quite comprehend what Lily was talking about, but he let her tug at his hand as she hopped down from the railing. He hopped down, and followed her, leaving the terrace quietly.  
  
_Maybe someday,_ James thought as they headed back to their dormitories. The feeling in his stomach had settled down, but he kept biting at his lips, thinking about how soft Lily's were, and how his emotions had thrown themselves into chaos at the lightest kiss.

* * *

It was exactly lunchtime by the time Harry managed to get out of bed. Still feeling a bit wobbly (if it was because of his detention or the amount of food he took in last night, he didn't know), he put on his robes and headed to the Great Hall. But as he was making his way down the Great Hall, he met an annoyed-looking Ginny stomping up the stairs.  
  
"Ginny?" he asked guardedly.  
  
Ginny looked up at Harry. Her whole attitude suddenly changed. She smiled widely. "Hey," she said, walking up to him. "Had a good nap?"  
  
"Pretty much," Harry said. "Why were you looking so furious?"  
  
"Oh. It was—" For a moment, she looked angry again, but her face brightened up quickly. "Ah, forget it. Such a lovely morning, isn't it?"  
  
Harry's reply died in his throat, because Ginny suddenly hooked her arm through his. "Shall we go down to the Great Hall together?"  
  
Harry's face reddened. It wasn't like Ginny to be as straightforward as this—not at all. He knew she used to have a crush on him (_used to_ being the key phrase), but she wouldn't have done this, ever. Or _was_ she being straightforward? _Why_ was she doing this?  
  
"Er," he managed to squeak. Ginny's grin widened and dragged him down the stairs to the Great Hall.  
  
All of the Gryffindors who were inside gaped at Harry and Ginny. Ginny didn't look embarrassed at all—unlike Harry, who was red to the roots of his hair that his face could have matched Ginny's locks. Ginny smiled smugly as Parvati and Lavender stared at them with their mouths hanging open, wheeling him on her arm as if Harry were a prized trophy.  
  
Harry began to pull away and protest, until he looked at who was in front of him.  
  
Ron and Hermione.  
  
Hermione wore an expression like that of Parvati and Lavender. Ron, on the other hand, looked close to murderous.  
  
"Hi, Ron," said Ginny. Harry thought Ginny sounded as if she was teasing Ron.  
  
Ginny finally let go of Harry as they sat down, with Ginny sitting between Hermione and Harry.  
  
"I don't believe this," Hermione groaned, putting her head in her hands.  
  
"Why not?" asked Ginny cheerfully, reaching for a green apple. Ron's eyes widened when his eyes fell on the ring on Ginny's hand. "We didn't mind when Ron began snogging you, did we?"  
  
Hermione's jaw dropped open. Ron turned red at his ears. Harry wanted to duck down under the table.  
  
However, Hermione's face began to relax. She smiled at Ginny. "Very funny, Gin."  
  
Ginny and Hermione seemed to understand each other, for Ginny returned a knowing smile.  
  
"Ginny!" It was a third year Gryffindor that Harry knew only by her first name, Bridget. She was waving at Ginny.  
  
"Oh dear," Ginny muttered, standing up. "Gotta go now. See you later, okay?" She winked at Harry. Harry could only nod and blush as Ginny went over to Bridget. Bridget and her two boy companions, on the other hand, were grinning at Harry in a knowing manner.  
  
Harry let out the air that he had been keeping in his lungs for a while. "So," he tried to say in the thick silence that had fallen over him, Ron and Hermione. "Er, nice morning isn't it?"  
  
Ron and Hermione didn't say anything.  
  
"Hey Ron, over here," called Fred from the other side of the table. Beside him, George seemed to stifle a smile. He winked at Harry.  
  
Ron quickly stood up and stomped over to where Fred and George sat. Hermione, meanwhile, stayed beside Harry.  
  
"Nice morning, yeah," she muttered derisively.  
  
"Hermione—it's not what you and Ron think," Harry protested. He glanced at Ginny—she was deep in conversation with Bridget and a couple of other third years.  
  
Hermione broke into a grin. "I know. I know nothing's going on between you and Ginny." Her tone began to grow serious. "Look here, I know why Ginny was acting like that all morning. Ron talked to her before you came and they got upset with each other. Ron was insisting something happened last night—and the mildest thing he suggested was you kissing the heck out of her. And Ginny just kept angrily saying that nothing as…_intimate_ as that happened."  
  
Something at the back of Harry's mind made him blush once more. He hadn't kissed Ginny, but for some reason, he felt guilty, as if he really had kissed her….  
  
"I did _not_ kiss her, whatever Ron says," said Harry, blushing harder. "You know I wouldn't." _You only hugged her,_ a voice said in his head. And another voice answered, _No, _she_ hugged _you_._  
  
"I believe her," Hermione replied, "and I believe you. Ron can be such a jerk at times—"  
  
"You tell me," Harry muttered darkly.  
  
"—and Ginny was just annoying him because he was accusing her of something. But the thing is, everybody else suspects what Ron thinks. Because you and Ginny are hanging out with each other nowadays, and you're looking cozy with each other. And it's known all over Hogwarts that she's carried a torch for you since she saw you that first day at Platform Nine—"  
  
"She does _not_ carry one for me anymore," Harry interrupted angrily. "We're _friends_."  
  
Hermione stared at him searchingly for a while. Then she straightened up. "All right, then. Tell me—right to my face, all right?—that you don't feel _anything_ for Ginny, nothing at all."  
  
Harry began to open his mouth, but suddenly stopped.  
  
Saying that he didn't feel anything was a lie. Saying that he did was too soon.

He suddenly saw an image of him and Ginny sitting on what looked like the railing of a balcony, enveloped in the darkness of the night with only the stars and moon shining down on them. Then he kissed her lightly.  
  
It struck Harry that this was the dream he just had, just this morning. But what did it all mean?  
  
And…why did it seem that, like in the dream he had earlier, they weren't really the characters in the dream, but it was _them_ all the same?  
  
Harry shook his head mentally. It ached just from thinking about it.  
  
"Listen," Harry began. "I don't know what I feel for her, really. I like her—a lot," he added. "But it's still all so…confusing. I have to sort it out first."  
  
Hermione continued to stare hard into Harry's eyes. After a while, she reached out and gave his arm a squeeze. "I understand, Harry," she said softly. She tossed her head to Ron's direction (Ron was telling Fred something, and he looked heated). "I know exactly how you feel."  
  
Harry began to smile. Now that he thought about it, Hermione and Ron must have felt confused as well during their transition from being friends to a couple.  
  
On the other hand…he and Ginny had absolutely no plans of becoming a couple.  
  
Yet.  
  
  
  
Harry found Ginny that evening in the common room, talking to some first-years at the study table there, and seemingly trying to read in between. Ron and Hermione were deep in conversation at the other end of the table. Ron was looking irate, and even more so when Harry entered the common room.  
  
He knew he was going to infuriate Ron even more by sitting beside Ginny, but he knew he just had to.  
  
Ginny was so immersed in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ that she didn't notice Harry until he sat down on the seat beside her. Ginny quickly closed the book and told him matter-of-factly, "Did you know that the Death Eaters used a lot of spells unknown to other people when You-Know-Who was still at the height of his powers?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "No, but it's quite obvious, isn't it?" He took the book from her hands casually. "They are the only ones who know how to conjure the Dark Mark—remember at the Quidditch World Cup? And Voldemort—sorry," he added hastily when Ginny suddenly went rigid with shock, "You-Know-Who invented a few spells…not just a few, come to think of it…."  
  
Harry was thinking of the spell Voldemort had invented to bring back his own body, as Harry had witnessed last year when the Dark Lord had risen again….Shaking himself from those unwelcome thoughts, he opened the book.  
  
His heart leapt to his throat. He had opened a page devoted to his defeat of the Dark Lord. But what caught his attention was the moving black-and-white picture on the corner of the page.  
  
His mother was sitting on an armchair, holding a baby, while his father, wearing a pointy party hat, sat on the armrest. Both of them were beaming and laughing back at Harry while the baby pointed at him. Behind them floated balloons of different sizes. The caption read, _"Lily and James Potter, with their son, Harry James. Taken on Harry's first birthday, three months before the Dark Lord met his end thanks to the young boy."_  
  
He stared at the photograph for a while, fingering it absentmindedly. He had pictures of his parents—a lot of them—but seeing his own family in a widely-read library book felt strange. Everyone knew that Harry had caused Voldemort's downfall, but they really didn't know the whole story—  
  
"Wait," he suddenly said. "Have you been staring at my baby picture all evening?"  
  
Ginny, Harry saw, blushed furiously. "No way!" she declared, grabbing the book from him.  
  
Harry grinned naughtily. "Yeah…"  
  
Ginny shoved him sideways. "Don't be a prat," she said, opening the book again to a page devoted to the curses the Death Eaters used.  
  
Harry watched her, noticing that the red on her ears had no signs of diminishing yet.  
  
Ginny must have noticed Harry staring at her. "Listen," she spoke up, noticeably changing the subject, "I'm really sorry about this morning. I was just annoying Ron, 'cause—"  
  
"I know." Harry put both palms up, stopping her. "Hermione told me."  
  
Ginny goggled at him. _"What?"_ she exclaimed, causing those around them to look their way. "Told you what?" Her face was becoming red again.  
  
Harry shrugged. "That you and Ron had quite a fight—because of me," he said, suddenly feeling awful. "Why? Is there something else?"  
  
"Oh—no," Ginny said hastily. "And no—don't blame yourself, for God's sake!"  
  
Harry stared down at _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, deep in thought about something that had been nagging at him all day—something that Hermione had said. Again, as he wondered how he was going to tell Ginny, he felt something writhing inside his stomach.  
  
"Harry, don't mind Ron," Ginny said quietly—Ron was still venomously looking their way. "He's just—my big brother, you know."  
  
"Fred and George don't give me dagger looks, though."  
  
"'Cause they're Fred and George," Ginny said. "They're more…should I say liberal?" She grinned.  
  
Harry didn't smile back. He kept quiet for a moment—before blurting out, "Don't you mind that I hang out with you nowadays?"  
  
Ginny raised both eyebrows.  
  
"I mean." Harry swallowed before going on. "Years back I never hung out with you, the way I do now. I never paid much attention to you. I was indifferent about—you know, your…uh, crush."

Ginny's face was void of expression as he spoke, making him feel edgier.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I hope I'm not making you feel—uh, bad—'cause I only noticed you now, and not before, when you really deserved to be noticed despite that…crush." He was still having difficulty with the word. "'Cause you're really a nice person, and I mean it."  
  
Ginny was not smiling, and neither did she look mad. She simply shrugged. "I don't mind. You were always the slow one. After Ron, come to think of it," she added as an afterthought.  
  
Harry stared at her. Ginny began to giggle.  
  
"No, Harry," she said, her eyes sparkling with laughter. "Fine—I felt like you avoided me, but it _ was_ a stupid crush."

Harry smiled lopsidedly.

"Besides, you saved my life in my first year, remember?"  
  
"So you're saying you got rid of...you know...because I saved your life?" Harry asked, confused.

Ginny laughed again. Her laughs were somewhat comforting. She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "It's not that," she said. "The reason I'm hanging out with you now is because I finally discovered the real Harry Potter. He's not just the hero who defeated You-Know-Who before he knew what he was doing. He's got a good heart, he's a good friend—and he's a sunrise person." She smiled, somewhat encouragingly. "He's not worth hero-worshipping. You're worth being a friend, and that's it."  
  
Harry wanted to hug her when she uttered the last sentence. However, he contented himself by patting her hand as it lay on her lap.  
  
"Thank you," he whispered sincerely.  
  
Ginny just smiled and nodded.  
  
"Can you do me one favor though?" asked Harry. "Can you tell Ron what you just said?"  
  
Ginny broke into uncontrollable laughter. It was infectious—Harry began shaking in laughter himself.  
  
"I don't have to," Ginny told him finally. "He already knows that."

* * *

A large, shaggy black dog walking alongside a majestic chestnut-brown stag with black markings around its eyes was a strange sight indeed, but Lily Evans positively glowed at the sight of the two animals.  
  
"Hey guys," she said. She was standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She ambled towards them and gave both a pat on the head. The dog wagged its tail, while the stag reared back. "Coast is clear."  
  
Where the stag had been, there stood James Potter, arranging his glasses. "You know I hate it when you do that, Lil."  
  
"I like annoying you," replied Lily. Sirius, who had transformed into his human form, snickered. James glared at him even as he pulled Lily close to him and kissed her gently on the lips.  
  
"That," said James after a while, "is much better."  
  
"Can't agree more," said Lily, mesmerizing James with her dazzling smile.  
  
"Why don't you kiss me as a stag, though? Sure beats being groped around."  
  
Lily grimaced disgustedly. She put a hand over his face and pushed it away, loosening James's hold on her waist.  
  
"Hey," James said as Lily began to walk away, "I was just kidding!"  
  
"I know!" Lily called back with a wave of her hand.  
  
"Ah, c'mon, Lil," James groaned. "I love you!"  
  
This time, Lily turned around and grinned widely. "Yeah, me too!" Then she turned back around to the castle.  
  
James sighed to himself, smiling. He felt Sirius clap a hand on his shoulder. "You know," he told him, "whenever I watch you two do that, I get the goose bumps."  
  
"She gives me those, too, when she does that," James said dreamily.  
  
Sirius looked at him, looking disgusted at James's corniness. Shaking his head, he followed Lily to the castle, with James following close behind, still grinning to himself.

A/N: Thanks again, Lisa! 


	7. Hogsmeade

**Family**  
  
_Chapter Seven  
Hogsmeade_

Ginny wasn't wrong when she told Harry that he was always slow, Harry realized some time later. It took him three dreams—the last with an Animagus transformation—to realize that his dreams hadn't been about himself and Ginny.

They had been about his parents.

The O.W.L.s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels) were drawing nearer, and the fifth-years found themselves thrown into doing a lot of schoolwork. Hermione and Ron had begun bickering with each other again over studies—Hermione was trying to convince him and Harry to stay up well after midnight to master their lessons. Harry's only real problem was Divination (he still couldn't get the feel of the Tarot cards) and Potions—after his detention, he couldn't quite get the hang of the Forgetfulness Brew, as if he had gotten a dose himself.

Harry certainly didn't mind sleeping late, but he wanted very badly to fall asleep every night, so he could dream about his parents. He was weaving a story about them in his mind—all about their days in Hogwarts and after. All of them were sweet, wonderful moments, and after every dream, when he woke up and recalled it, he felt a mixture of pride, joy, and sadness.

Harry didn't mention his dreams to anybody. They came every night, and it took him a while to recollect the dream the moment he woke up.

But something else bothered him. Why was it that, whenever he dreamed about his parents, it still seemed as though he was dreaming of himself and Ginny? It was like he and Ginny assumed his parents' places in his dreams. Whenever his father hugged his mother, it felt like he was holding Ginny. He smelled Ginny's fragrant hair, felt her soft skin.

He began to wonder if her lips felt like that, too….

All April, Harry and Ginny did almost everything together. They dined in the Great Hall together, visited Hagrid a few times, spent evenings in the common room, and crept down to the kitchens again a couple of times. They became inseparable. Almost every Gryffindor now thought they were an item, but Harry and Ginny ignored them. They were comfortable, being one another's friend and support.

Harry, on the other hand, had been privately wrestling with his feelings all month. It was made even more complicated by the dreams. Still, he didn't want to acknowledge his feelings, that Ginny could be…something more. He felt that the way it was—being together, simply because of a certain closeness—was already more than he could ask for.

Meanwhile, the schoolwork was building a great strain among the fifth years, so it was a great relief among them when the teachers announced that there would be a Hogsmeade visit on the fourth weekend of April. Even Hermione felt relieved at the news.

"This is great," Hermione gushed. "One day free of studies. I'm getting a headache reading all those volumes."

"That's a first," Ron muttered to Harry.

Harry didn't know if it had been Ginny who convinced Ron that they were just friends. He somehow doubted it; he had a strong suspicion that Hermione had talked to Ron about it. Whatever happened, Harry was extremely thankful that Ron didn't seem so angry at him for hanging around with Ginny all these weeks—although Ron still kept a close watch on him whenever he and Ginny sat down on the armchairs in front of the fire. But what was important was that Ron was at least speaking to him like he used to.

"Harry—can I talk to you for a minute?" Ron asked, his tone a bit serious.

"Er, sure," Harry replied. Ron steered them both from Hermione's curious gaze. Harry knew, at once, that this was going to be about Ginny—and he was right.

"Listen—I know you and Ginny are going to be with each other all day—"

"Ron—" Harry started to say, but Ron cut him off.

"I know, I know. Hermione and I are going to hang out together all day too, see. So…just…take care of my sister, all right?"

Harry shrugged. "Of course," he said, thinking that there was no need for Ron to say that. "Don't worry."

_Weird,_ Harry thought, slightly bristling as Ron returned to Hermione. _Is he thinking we're going to end up in an inn or something? _

And yet, within those words, there seemed to be an unspoken promise.

And Harry knew it.

Ginny suddenly materialized beside him. "Ready?"

All other thoughts vanished from Harry's head.

It was spring mixed with summer; few clouds were in sight, the air was becoming considerably warmer, and everyone was in a cheerful mood. After a round of butterbeer with Ginny, Hermione and Ron in The Three Broomsticks, they headed out on the road, all grinning from ear to ear.

"Where're you two headed?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione.

"Zonko's, maybe," Ron said. "I'm low on Dungbombs."

"You're _always_ low on Dungbombs," Hermione said exasperatedly.

"Dungbombs _rule_."

"I have to go to Honeydukes," Ginny said, motioning to the candy store at the end of the street.

"All right, then," Ron said, taking Hermione's hand and giving Harry a meaningful look, "see you later."

Harry inwardly groaned. As he and Ginny headed to Honeydukes, he nudged her on the side. "Low on Chocolate Frogs, Gin?"

"Nope," said Ginny as they entered the store. "Not really."

Several third-years were already inside. Being new to the place, they were all keen on buying just about every candy sold by the store. The boys, meanwhile, were examining the more revolting candies in the store—Cockroach Clusters, for one.

Ginny headed to the counter where boxes of Every Flavor Beans were displayed, and took two of them; then she took a large pack of Chocolate Frogs. She also took some Ice Mice, the levitating sherbet balls, and Toothflossing Mints.

Harry raised both eyebrows. "Are you going to eat all those alone?" he inquired curiously.

Ginny began examining the Sugar Quills. "I…really don't want to sound like I'm trying to impress anybody or something."

"Why?" Harry pressed on.

Ginny hesitated. "You sure you want to know?"

Harry squinted at her. "Yeah…why?"

Ginny took a handful of Sugar Quills. "These are for the first- and second-years," she explained. "I promised I'd bring them some. And they can really use these...," she waved the quills in front of Harry's face, "...in case I bore the pants off them tonight."

Harry took a box of Chocolate Frogs himself, but still stared at Ginny. "Bore them? Why?"

Ginny's cheeks began to turn pink. "Because…I'll be tutoring them again tonight." She peered into Harry's surprised face. "Listen, I don't want you to be proud of me or anything. That's why I didn't tell anyone. You haven't noticed me doing that, have you?"

Harry shook his head. "No," he admitted.

Ginny smiled as she fell in line to pay for her purchases. "Good. You won't tell anyone, right?"

Harry didn't say anything. It was difficult not to feel proud of her. He was deeply impressed—he thought about all the efforts she must have put into teaching the first- and second-years. And she was going to bring them something tonight. He barely noticed—he knew she often talked to those from lower-year classes, but he didn't imagine she was actually teaching them.

"You're quiet," Ginny said sternly as they left Honeydukes. "Don't be. I told you, I don't want to glorify myself."

Harry stopped in his tracks and stood in front of Ginny. He looked down on her brown eyes, which narrowed in confusion.

_How can I not be proud of you?_ he wanted to tell her. _You're patient enough to teach kids, you're thoughtful, you're sympathetic, you're independent and witty…you're practically the most amazing girl I've ever met._

"I know," Harry blurted out instead.

Ginny continued to squint up at him.

"It's just—amazing—what you're doing, I mean," Harry struggled to say. "And you are, too. I mean—you're amazing."

Harry kicked himself inwardly. _Why_ wasn't he able to get it all out? Here was Ginny, the one whom he was able to open up to, and yet all that he wanted to tell her at that moment seemed stuck somewhere deep in his chest.

It didn't seem to matter, though, as he saw Ginny search his eyes. All that he wanted to say seemed to open up to her, for her eyes widened.

Harry saw her swallow before speaking. "Harry—stop that," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"I mean it," Harry insisted. He looked deeply into Ginny's wide eyes. He didn't feel any gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. Although he had conveyed it in a few insignificant words, it was there, and he knew that he was serious—more than ever.

"Why are you doing this?"

As Harry and Ginny locked gazes, he remembered all that she had done since they grew closer to one another: the way she teased Harry continually, the comfort she had given him when he needed a shoulder to cry on, the understanding he always saw in her eyes. He remembered, as if they were perpetually set in his mind; her beautiful smile, her mischievous grin, her soothing voice, her warm touch and embrace. He became aware of a painful desire to protect her, take care of her, and give her all that he had.

In that single moment, a sudden realization washed over him: _I love this girl. I really, really do. _

But another thought flitted through his mind. _Saying that I don't is a lie. Saying that I do is too soon. _

Harry stood there, irresolute of what he must do for a long while. Finally, he took her hand. Both of their rings were glowing, but they hardly noticed. "Ginny," he whispered, squeezing her hand, "you'll know someday."

A new sort of gaze developed on Ginny's face. It was one of recognition. Her lips parted as she took a sharp intake of breath.

"I've dreamed of this before," she said, still not tearing her gaze away from Harry. "You—and me—we were…on this balcony, and it was nighttime…" She struggled to keep her voice from shaking. "And there were…shooting stars. I told you something like that—'maybe you'll know someday.'"

Balcony. Shooting stars. It _did_ sound familiar….

"Ginny," Harry suddenly said, "in that dream, did I—did I—_kiss you_?"

Ginny had no time to reply. For just as Harry finished speaking, they heard a loud explosion from inside Honeydukes, causing the two of them to jump apart. All of a sudden, screams from the inside of the store erupted. Several students, still yelling, ran out of the store.

"What was that?" Ginny gasped.

Harry took out his wand from the pocket of his robe. "I don't—"

Harry stopped short, for another explosion was heard—and a shape suddenly floated through the Honeydukes roof upward. It was made out of what looked like stars and greenish smoke, and it was in the shape of a skull with a snake jutting out of its mouth.

_The Dark Mark. _

_There's a Death Eater in Honeydukes. _

Harry felt Ginny grasp his arm tightly. Just a while ago, he was inside…and the store was full to bursting with Hogwarts students….

"I'm going in," Harry said, panicking, tightening his hold on his wand. "Run for it, Ginny. Go."

"No," she uttered, taking her own wand. Her voice was trembling, but she looked steadfast. "I'm going with you."

"Ginny, it's not safe!"

"I don't care! There are students in there, Harry!"

Another explosion. The earth beneath them shook forcefully, causing the two of them to topple backwards. Knowing better than to argue with a Weasley, especially this one, he gave her a curt nod, stood up, and dashed for the Honeydukes door, knowing that there wasn't time—and that whatever happened, Ginny would come out safe. _Whatever happens,_ he reminded himself.

He kicked the door open.

All the cabinets and barrels were on the floor, destroyed; candies were strewn everywhere. Black-robed bodies were lying on the floor. Four students were huddled on a corner, shaking, apparently too terrified to scream.

In the middle of the room, a hooded figure stood, whirling around to look at Harry and Ginny when they entered.

"Well, well, well," the figure spoke from under the hood, sounding pleased to see Harry. "We've met yet again, Harry Potter."

Harry didn't have to think twice to recall whose voice he heard.

"Lucius Malfoy," Ginny snarled beside him.

The hooded figure removed his cloak. Lucius Malfoy stood, his face twisted into a cruel smile, his cold gray eyes boring into Ginny, who glared back, her wand pointing at him.

"Ah yes, of course," Malfoy sneered. "The Weasley brat. Still alive after being cooped up in the Chamber of Secrets not too long ago."

Harry shielded Ginny with an arm and pointed his wand at Malfoy with his other hand. "Leave," he commanded, sounding a lot braver than he felt.

They heard an explosion outside, and more shrieks of terror. Malfoy hung his head back and laughed horribly.

"That would be from Zonko's," he declared. "Reinforcements have arrived."

_"Ron,"_ Harry heard Ginny whisper through gritted teeth. _"Hermione."_

Harry realized with a jolt that this was a full-blown attack—probably the first in the country. And they had chosen an all-wizarding village…not too far from the school.

Harry's eyes fell on to the students, still crouching in the corner. He registered that all of them were third years. He thought quickly. _They have to get out of here._ Ginny seemed to read his mind, for as Malfoy continued to laugh, she began edging towards them. Harry edged towards other side so that Malfoy's back was turned on Ginny.

"Took you a long while to begin attacking," Harry growled, still pointing his wand at Malfoy, trying to distract him from Ginny and the third years. "Seems like you and your 'friends' are having a hard time."

"Dim-witted boy," said Malfoy, the twisted smile never leaving his face, "in all plots for world domination, long, hard planning is necessary."

"Doesn't seem like it." Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Ginny motioning furiously to the third years to come with her. She still held her wand on Malfoy. Pale and quivering, the third years crept towards her. "I take it Dumbledore has stopped you from setting up more attacks."

"Yes, but he didn't seem to stop this one, did he?" Yet another explosion from outside was heard, and Malfoy smiled again. "Ah, The Three Broomsticks."

_Fred. George. Neville. Dean. Seamus._ Harry was mentally counting the ones they had left in the pub just half an hour ago. He gripped his wand more tightly.

"You're not going to succeed." Harry's voice was menacing. Irrepressible anger was coursing through his veins, overpowering the anxiety he felt for his friends.

"Oh, won't we?" Malfoy snarled. "We shall see."

Harry prepared himself—Malfoy's wand arm was raised—but to his great surprise, Malfoy swiveled around with great agility—and pointed his wand at Ginny.

_"Cunctantis aegrotatio!"_

_"EXPELLIARMUS!"_ Harry yelled as his heart leapt to his throat—Malfoy's wand flew high into the air—but he took one look at Ginny, and knew that he had failed in keeping his promise to Ron.

For Ginny was lying facedown on the floor.

The third-years had escaped; Malfoy's wand was on the ground. Harry tore for it and snatched it up before Malfoy did. But even before he straightened up, Malfoy lunged at him, sending both wands flying from Harry's hand. Malfoy pinned him on the ground and took hold of his neck.

Harry began to choke—his air pipe felt blocked—he couldn't breathe, and stars were flashing before his eyes. Yet through his muddled brain, a voice seemed to chant: _You're not going to die. Fight. Fight, Harry. Fight for Ginny._

With what remained of his strength, Harry curled his leg upward and kicked. He caught Malfoy at the lower belly. Gasping for breath, still feeling the world whirl around him, Harry picked up his wand.

"The Dark Lord is going to be very pleased when I deliver you to him," Malfoy proclaimed triumphantly. He had found his own wand, and was now pointing it at Harry's chest. _"Stupefy!"_

Harry was prepared for this. _"Contego!"_ The Shield Charm, more powerful than he had ever done before, worked; he wasn't affected by the Stunning Spell.

At that moment, the door was blasted open, and another Death Eater entered.

"Dumbledore's arrived," the newcomer growled. "We must leave."

Malfoy suddenly looked alarmed. He snatched up his cloak and, without as much as a glance at Harry, Disapparated with the other Death Eater into thin air.

Harry stood up and ran straight to Ginny.

Her eyes were closed; her parted lips were horribly pale. He pressed his fingers on her neck. Her pulse was there, weak but steady.

Bodies were everywhere—blood was slowly seeping out of the robes of two of the students. Harry looked around him helplessly, cradling Ginny in his arms.

"Anyone here?" A male voice yelled from outside Honeydukes. Harry knew who it was—his godfather—

"SIRIUS!" Harry shouted.

Sirius Black, his face pale and haggard, appeared inside the ruined shop. He made his way towards Harry. His face suddenly filled with concern. "Harry—are you okay?"

"They're not," Harry said, shuddering as he motioned at his schoolmates around him. "And Ginny here—"

"I'll take care of them," Sirius told him. He checked Ginny's pulse on her left wrist. "Ginny will be okay. Take her back to Hogwarts."

Sirius turned to one of the fallen students. He tilted the brunette's face to see it better—it was Bridget, the third-year Gryffindor girl. Her body covered the door to the wine cellar which, Harry knew, led to a secret passage to Hogwarts. If the door had been blasted apart—

Harry closed his eyes and said a silent prayer for Bridget—_thank you,_ he added. _You saved everyone else without knowing it._

Harry stood up, carrying Ginny. She was very light. With a nod to Sirius, he took Ginny outside.

It was worse than it had been inside Honeydukes. Three Dark Marks were floating in the air—one each for Honeydukes, Zonko's and The Three Broomsticks. Harry gaped at the scene around him, numb disbelief filling his head. Crying, hysterical students held each other close; others were treating their own cuts and bruises.

The professors had just arrived. They were restlessly darting from one group of students to another. Harry scanned the crowd, looking for his friends.

His prayers were not in vain. "Harry!"

"Hermione!" Harry shouted hoarsely. Hermione approached him. Her face was white—like all of the other faces there now. However, she looked alert, though tired. She had a cut on her forehead. She quickly checked Ginny's pulse. "Where's Ron?" Harry asked.

"In Zonko's," Hermione said, touching Ginny's face. "He's helping…the victims." Hermione's words ended in a trembling voice. "What happened to Ginny?"

"Lucius Malfoy cursed her," Harry said, feeling anger rise up his body again. "I don't know what it was—it sounded strange. I've never heard it before."

"You'd better take her to Hogwarts now," Hermione whispered. "She'll probably be fine. We'll take care of things here—Harry?"

For Harry had gone rigid. Behind Hermione, there stood Ron, a look of total disbelief on his blood-spattered face as he stared at his unconscious sister, and for Harry, it was more terrible than seeing Ron at his angriest.

For some reason, he knew then that Ginny was not going to be fine at all. 

_**Jenna's Notes:** Big thanks again to Lisa, especially for straightening out that little H/G conversation in the middle of this chapter. If you think there's a problem with the Latin curses, please let me know—I don't know the first thing about Latin myself. ;-)_


	8. The Wedding Rings

**Family**

_Chapter Eight  
The Wedding Rings_

James, feeling his heart pound loudly on his chest, clutched Lily's hand and attempted to drag her away from the scene. "Lily, come on! It isn't safe!" he cried, pulling. "COME ON!"

"We _can't_ go!" Lily insisted as she wrenched herself free from James's grasp. Her face was a mask of pure disbelief. "The McKinnons! They're still in there!" She began to run deeper into the forest, where the fighting was taking place.

"Lily!" James grabbed her arm. "Listen! We can't do anything for them anymore!"

"How could you say that?" Lily shot back angrily, even as tears fell on her cheeks. "Mike! Wendy! We've _got_ to get to them!"

James shook his head helplessly. "We can't," he said, his voice shaking. "We'll go back—I promise—but not until I know you're—"

James's words were cut short as he noticed a tall figure in a black cloak dart across the trees behind Lily. Before he could even raise his wand, or shield Lily, the figure had shouted, _"Crucio!"_

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Lily shrieked, falling to the ground, convulsing in pain, causing James to let go of her arm. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"Lily! _EXPELLIARMUS!_ LILY!"

* * *

"Harry! _Harry!_"

Harry woke up with a jolt. He blinked and opened his eyes fully. Above him, George's face came into focus. Or was it Fred?

"Fred?" he asked.

"Yeah. You okay?" Fred had knelt beside Harry, looking at him anxiously.

Harry sat up, running his fingers through his hair. "I…just…dreamed about something."

Fred nodded. "I know. You were calling out your mum's name."

Harry looked up at Fred. "I was?"

"Yeah."

Harry stood up with a grunt and looked about him. He was sitting on the cold marble floor, and he had his back on the wall. He had been sleeping there since way past midnight. A door loomed behind Fred, and he suddenly realized why he had been sitting there.

"How's Ginny?"

Fred heaved a huge sigh. "Madam Pomfrey told me she'll be okay. She'll be staying in here for a long while, though." He pointed his thumb on the door of the hospital wing.

At that moment, Harry realized that Fred wore an expression he had only seen on him once before. That was in his second year, when they were told that Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets by the so-called Heir of Slytherin. Fred was looking worn-down and grim, very much in contrast to his usual personality.

"All the others are in the Great Hall," Fred was saying. "Dumbledore addressed us. Said Hogsmeade has been evacuated, but he's not going to close Hogwarts down. All the secret passages have been sealed. After the attack in Hogsmeade, he made sure that Hogwarts is the safest place in the country."

"I'm sorry, Fred," said Harry, looking down on the floor, still thinking about Ginny. "I was with her."

"Hey, come on." Fred gave Harry an enormous thump on the shoulder. "It wasn't your fault. A Ravenclaw third year came to tell me that Ginny had saved her and three friends from a Death Eater." Despite everything, Fred smiled to himself. "That's Ginny."

_That's Ginny._ Harry remembered the conversation they had outside Honeydukes, just before the attack happened. She had told him about the first- and second- years she had been tutoring…it had occurred to him that Ginny was made up of much stronger stuff—and that he had taken it all for granted.

And she had…told him about her dream….

"Oh, _no_," Harry suddenly moaned. "Oh…God, no—"

"What is it?" Fred asked, but Harry had burst into the hospital wing.

He knew where Ginny was. He was the one who took here there after the attack. She was still there—but she was worse off, even if the curse Malfoy had put on her had already worn off. Madam Pomfrey was beside her, trying to get her to drink something out of a goblet. It was difficult. Ginny was sweating profusely, she was taking in deep breaths, and her eyes slid in and out of focus.

Harry knew that his suspicions were correct. Remembering what it had been like for the Cruciatus Curse to be put on him, he knew that Ginny, being his mother's character in their recent dream, must have felt it too. And given her present condition….

Madam Pomfrey had finally given Ginny her potion. Ginny had fallen asleep instantly. She didn't even look twice at Harry as she hurried to tend another patient. Among those who were still awake, Madam Pomfrey looked the worst.

Harry went over to Ginny's bed. Her hands lay on top of her, the emerald ring glinting as the first rays of the sun poured out of a nearby window.

Harry cursed himself mentally. If he had only known that Ginny were to have the same dreams—or at least the last one—he wouldn't have given her the ring. He angrily slapped his forehead. That had been twice in less than twenty-four hours he had put her in pain—first, in Honeydukes, for failing to save her, and second, just now, for giving her the ring and the dream.

Harry took her hand. It took a great deal of resolution to take the ring from her finger, as if he was doing something wrong.

"Hey," Fred said behind him, "I don't think it's right to get something you've given her without telling her about it."

"I have to," Harry replied thickly. "I can't let her get hurt again."

But just as he began to pull the ring from her, he heard footsteps coming their way.

Albus Dumbledore, his ancient face grave and weary, looked from Ginny's and Harry's hands, then to Harry's face. Beside Dumbledore, a black dog the size of a bear was doing the same.

Dumbledore's blue eyes finally settled on Harry. There was no twinkle in them, no laughter—but he didn't look angry, either. He just looked…oddly curious.

"Harry," he finally said. The characteristic gaze was still there, making Harry feel as if Dumbledore was reading his mind. "I have to talk to you."

Harry could only nod. Dumbledore looked at Fred. "Your brothers have sent an owl to your parents. I'll probably send another one to them. You may stay here."

Fred nodded as well. Dumbledore turned on his heel, with Sirius as Snuffles beside him. Harry followed, suddenly realizing that no student had seemed to notice Sirius Black while in Hogsmeade. Everyone, he thought, must have been watching for hooded dark-cloaked figures, and had forgotten about everything else.

They were in a deserted hallway when Dumbledore stopped and faced Harry. He glanced down at Harry's hand, where his father's ring was.

"So Miss Weasley unclasped the rings?" he asked right out.

"Er…yes," Harry replied awkwardly. Dumbledore's gaze on him was grim, but there was something else in his eyes—something he couldn't quite make out. It was as if Dumbledore was going to tell him something else.

Sirius had transformed into a human again, and he, too, glanced at the ring. "That was your father's," he said. He turned to Dumbledore. "You gave it to him, Professor?"

"I certainly did, Sirius," Dumbledore answered quietly, nodding. "I'm glad it was she. Although—in a way, it is not…." Dumbledore's voice trailed off, and Sirius looked away.

Harry squinted up at the two tall men. "Professor?" he asked, twisting the ring around his finger nervously as one question after another flitted around his thoughts, "Why was Ginny able to unclasp my parents' rings, while I wasn't able to?"

Again, Dumbledore fixed Harry in that unnatural gaze that made Harry feel like shriveling. But after a while, Dumbledore's gaze softened.

"Harry," he said softly as he laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, "your parents' pure, unselfish love for one another made those rings clasp together the day they died—a mark of the fact that their love remains even after death." He gripped Harry's shoulder harder. "And in my opinion, only love between two persons as pure and unselfish as that can unclasp the rings again."

Harry stared back at Dumbledore's eyes. _Love?_ He felt something squeeze his heart. It suddenly sounded like a big, unfathomable word. Though, he thought, it probably is.

"That's why there was no need to take the ring from her, Harry," said Dumbledore gravely. "It isn't right, trying to take away something that connects the two of you."

"But since I gave Ginny my mother's ring, we kept on dreaming about my parents… simultaneously," Harry protested quietly. He felt as if he needed to tell Dumbledore this. "They were all good at first. But then, we both had this nightmare. Just now. That's why I needed to have the ring back."

Sirius, and even Dumbledore, certainly didn't anticipate this. "Dreams?" Sirius asked. "What were they about?"

"Well," Harry replied cautiously, "at first I thought they were about me and Ginny. Then I saw you, Sirius." Harry raised his eyes into his godfather's surprised ones. "You and Dad changed from your Animagus forms. Then I realized my dreams were about Mum and Dad. And then…Ginny told me something that made me suspect that she's having the same dreams I'm having."

Dumbledore looked mildly impressed. Sirius, however, looked as if he was thinking fast, trying to grasp something about what Harry had just said. Then understanding dawned on his gaunt, tired face. Eyes wide, he muttered something to Dumbledore that Harry couldn't hear.

When Sirius finished speaking, Dumbledore put his fingers on the part of his beard where his chin should have been. He, too, seemed to be deep in thought. Finally, he pulled something from deep within his pockets. It was his golden pocket watch, where instead of hands, little planets move around the edges.

"We have to meet Remus in my office," Dumbledore told Sirius. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore quickly cut him off. "Harry…I know I'm being unfair…but please understand," he said gently. "There are more pressing matters at hand…it involves everyone in this school. If you don't mind…I'd like to talk to you some time again." Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder again. "I'm proud of what you and Ginny did in Honeydukes. I've always been proud of your bravery, Harry." This time, Dumbledore looked extremely serious. "But meanwhile…do _not_ take the ring from Ginny, you hear?"

Harry was so taken aback that he wasn't able to reply.

"And neither should you remove your father's ring from your finger," Dumbledore went on, adding to Harry's already confused thoughts. "This is important. Your parents' rings hold answers that are…very important to you."

With that—just that—Sirius ruffled Harry's hair, turned back to the large dog, and followed Dumbledore towards the headmaster's office.

The sun had fully risen now, but the weekend was eerily different from the others. No laughter echoed in the halls of Hogwarts. Barely anybody talked. Although there were almost one thousand students in Hogwarts, the loss of four of their members was indeed a great one. The Great Hall was still void of the tables for all the students were staying there until further notice. The big room was very quiet, save for the occasional sobs that were heard from every corner.

Harry watched the Great Hall from its entrance. It was the most distressing sight he had ever seen—girls talking in hushed tones, girls sobbing, boys still lying on the sleeping bags and staring at the ceiling. The ceiling that day featured a beautiful blue sky, and after the conversation with Dumbledore and Sirius had left him with more questions than answers, it only put Harry in a worse mood.

Especially when he saw who was approaching him.

"Pathetic, aren't we, Potter?" drawled Draco Malfoy. It was the rarest of times when he saw him not flanked by his two bodyguards.

Harry felt blood pump into his head. He grated his teeth together and unconsciously reached for the wand inside his robes. Malfoy's steely gray eyes and platinum blond hair reminded him so much of Lucius Malfoy. Harry had to grit his teeth even harder as he reminded himself of the Death Eater.

"Yeah," Harry said, keeping his voice to a minimum to stop it from shaking with anger. "Thanks to your pathetic _father_."   
  
Malfoy sneered. Harry watched him reach for his own wand. "Can't you do anything better than that?"  
  
Harry swung his wand out and pointed it between Draco's eyes. "This," Harry snarled. "I can do this."

Malfoy looked alarmed for a while, but turned on his sneer again in a second. "Think you can actually make everything right by cursing me?" he asked coolly. "You think you can bring the Weasley brat back from the dead by doing that?"

"SHE'S NOT GOING TO _DIE_!" Harry roared, now pulling a fistful of Malfoy's robes and jabbing his wand hard on his chest. It didn't matter to him that he was inches smaller than Malfoy. His breath was now coming out in uneven gasps. The two young men glared back at each other with all their pent-up hatred showing in their eyes.

"'Course she's not," called a voice from Malfoy's back. Three redheads were approaching them—Fred, George and Ron. All of them were glaring at Malfoy.

"Isn't it funny you don't have Crabbe and Goyle beside you now, of all times?" Fred said grimly, cracking his knuckles. "One against four. This will be nice."  
  
"Better be on guard," George told him, advancing threateningly as well. "The kid's probably got a lesson or two from his dad."  
  
Malfoy wrenched himself free of Harry's grasp and glared at the four of them. He even had the guts to sneer. "It's not over yet," he said menacingly. "You'll see." His glare fell on Harry again, then turned on his heel and walked away swiftly.  
  
"Slimy git," George muttered. "Filthy coward. I wonder why Dumbledore hasn't kicked him out yet, knowing Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater."  
  
Ron sighed heavily. "Dumbledore's probably wishing Malfoy'd do a Snape and come back to our side." He snorted. "Yeah right."

Harry's jaw was set as he put his wand back into his robes. "I'd look forward to that day," he said grimly, as if there was really no hope for that happening. When he looked up, he saw Ron glaring at him just as he had glared at Malfoy a while ago.  
  
Harry knew what was coming. "Ron, I—"  
  
"Don't even say it," Ron spat. "Nothing you can say will make me forgive you."  
  
Although Harry knew it was difficult to take Ron seriously, at that moment he knew he could be wrong. Ron's eyes how about bored into his; now it was Ron's turn to quiver in anger. His face turned to a shade close to that of his hair.

"Hey, Ron, cool down, won't you?" Fred said irritatingly. "You know it wasn't Harry's fault—"

"Not _his_ fault?" Ron snarled. He turned to Harry, his blue eyes flashing. "I _told_ you to take _care_ of my sister!"

Harry threw his hands up helplessly. "I know—I'm sorry—"

Ron suddenly advanced on him. Luckily George was right behind him, for just as Ron swung his arm to punch Harry, George grabbed it. Harry knew he wouldn't move away from Ron's fist—he knew he deserved it.

"Cool off, Ron!" Fred admonished him. "Haven't we all had enough violence for one weekend?"

With a grunt, Ron pushed George away from him. And with a glare eerily like that of Malfoy's, he walked away, just as Malfoy did.

Fred ran a hand through his hair, smiling grimly. "You've got to forgive him for that, Harry," he said. "Among the six of us, he's the most overprotective brother."

"I can see that," Harry muttered weakly. Somehow Ron's anger towards him made him limp.

"Well, you know, he and Ginny are the youngest, and before school he was the closest one to her. Protected her when we bullied little Ginny. Right, George?"

George nodded. "Closest thing to Ginny next to Mum."

_Mum._ The word triggered another thought in Harry's mind. "Have you told your Mum?"

Fred and George looked at each other uneasily, then back at Harry.

"I knew it," Harry groaned, raking his hair with his fingers. "I knew it." No matter how fond Molly Weasley was of Harry, he knew that her love for him could never be matched by her love for her own daughter.

"Look—Ron wrote that letter, okay?" George said exasperatedly. "And you know, being biased and all…Mum doesn't know the whole story. I sent her another owl. I told her everything."

"She didn't send me anything, did she?"

The twins glanced at each other again.

"Erm, yeah, to tell you the truth…" Fred cleared his throat. "She sent you a Howler."

"I opened it out on the grounds." George had to smile. "I knew you wouldn't want to hear all that she had said."

Harry returned the smile reluctantly, as if to thank George. But at that moment, Harry felt like he was boneless throughout his body and his insides needed an urgent disembowelment.

Harry didn't sleep that night, or at least until past two. He had been sleeping with his Invisibility Cloak hidden inside his sleeping bag. Finally, when he was sure that no one was looking, he covered himself with the Cloak and tiptoed out of the Great Hall and towards the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey must have been too tired to go on, for no one was tending delete the victims now. It was just as well. He removed his Cloak, hurried to where Ginny lay and, taking a pillow from a nearby chair, sat on it on the floor beside the bed.

Moonlight shone on her pale, but otherwise pretty face. She had a heart-shaped jaw that reminded Harry of—_Mum,_ it occurred to him. _She sort of looks like Mum. No wonder I used to think she was the one in my dreams._

"Hey," he said softly. "Hope you're sleeping without any unpleasant dreams now."

Ginny didn't stir, of course. Harry knew he was being stupid, knowing that Ginny couldn't hear him, but he couldn't contain himself. He launched into the story of how Dumbledore didn't want him to remove the ring from her, and how Sirius had seemed to talk him into doing just that. He told her how he didn't understand what Dumbledore wanted at all—especially what he meant by "answers." Then he told her about Ron and how Ron had almost punched him. (He left out the story about Malfoy.) And finally, he told her about the Howler.

"I just can't win, Ginny," Harry whispered desperately. "I know I did something wrong by failing to protect you…but although Fred and George keep on telling me it isn't my fault, and you were brave because you sacrificed for those third-years—I tell myself, you also sacrificed for me. And I feel so dratted guilty, Ginny. I should be the one lying on that bed."

Harry's gaze fell on her hands. The emerald ring was glowing again.

_Only love between two persons as pure and unselfish as that can unclasp the rings again._

Harry took Ginny's hand in his, closed his eyes and pressed his lips against it. It was soft and cool to his touch. He gazed at her unconscious form, and somehow, her beautiful, peaceful face suddenly looked comforting.

Harry felt that he could drift off to sleep now. He profusely prayed that their dream would be a wonderful one tonight. But even as Harry closed his eyes, he took one last peek at Ginny's face, and knew that they were in for a better dream.

"Don't worry," he whispered, entwining his fingers with hers. "I'm here. No one's going to harm you while I'm here."

* * *

James burst into Lily's bedroom, breathing haggardly. "Lily, you have to come with me. _Now._"

Lily, who had been sitting in front of a mirror, brushing her hair, stood up, almost knocking a nearby perfume bottle in her haste. James looked more nervous than ever—she recalled the expression on his face as the one she had seen on him when she got hit by the Cruciatus Curse just over a week ago. And since he wore that very same expression—

"Is it serious?" Lily gasped, grabbing a windbreaker.

"Very," James answered.

As Lily put the windbreaker and a warm coat on, James pulled out his wand. "Hogwarts grounds," he told her.

Lily gaped at him. "_What?_ Why?"

"I've got no time to explain," James said pleadingly. "Please, Lil, you've just got to trust me!"

Lily looked hesitant, but finally nodded. "All right. Hogsmeade first, right?" And both of them Disapparated from Lily's flat, appearing in lovely Hogsmeade with its characteristic Christmas card look, and then making their way up to Hogwarts through the cold winter evening.

It was the start of the Christmas holidays. Few students were in the school, so it wasn't strange that everything was so dark and quiet, with the exception of the yellow lamplights streaming through the castle windows.

But then again, it _was_ the Christmas holidays. Everything should be bright and colorful in Hogwarts at Christmas. Then it occurred to her….

She took his hand, trembling. "Is this where the trouble is, James?"

To her surprise, when James turned his head to her, he was grinning from ear to ear. "Not really," he said.

Lily opened her mouth to speak, but a gasp escaped from her throat instead. For all of a sudden, the whole place was lit up by thousands of dancing yellow light, and marble fountains appeared around them, gushing with silvery water.

Lily stared around at the fountains, at the dancing fairies, and at the sound that had seemed to erupt in the place. It was the strings of a violin, playing a love song she vaguely remembered. When she turned around to face James and demand an explanation, she found him kneeling down on the snow and looking for something inside his coat.

"I know I'm not really the romantic type or anything—if anything at all, I'm the corny kid," James was saying. As Lily looked closer, she noticed that his cheeks were unnaturally pink. Then he came up with a maroon velvet box and gazed into her surprised green eyes. "But…before anything else happens, Lily, I just have to do this…. It would be the greatest honor for this guy kneeling in front of you if…" He held the box up. "…You would consent to marrying him."

With trembling hands, Lily took the box from him and opened it. The sight of the most beautiful emerald ring she had ever seen blurred, for tears filled her eyes and began flowing down her face.

"Oh, James," she whispered, kneeling in front of him. Then she embraced him, and James hugged her back tightly.

Absolutely no words were necessary. They remained that way for a long, long time, each one of them wearing a big grin, joyful tears flowing from their eyes.

* * *

Harry felt something tighten around his hands.

He lifted his head and looked in front of him. Ginny's eyes were fluttering open. Her brown eyes seemed to register the ceiling for a while, before she looked beside her and saw Harry.

Harry smiled at her. "Good morning, Gin."

Ginny was peering questioningly into his eyes. She tightened the hold on his hand again and asked innocently, "Are we getting married?"

For the first time since Saturday afternoon, Harry broke into a wide grin. He chuckled softly and reached out to brush a lock of Ginny's hair from her forehead. "No. Not yet."

_Oi, where did not _yet_ come from, mate?_

Harry slightly blushed at the voice from the back of his head. Ginny, meanwhile, was studying him.

"I just had a dream about you," she said hoarsely. "It was nice."

Harry smiled as he tried to prevent himself from blushing further. "I had the same dream," he said, and now that he got that out, he found his smile getting wider. Yes, it had been a nice dream….

Harry truly felt it had been he and Ginny in the dream. He then had to remember Dumbledore's strange words the day before to remind himself that the characters in the dream weren't the two of them.  
  
"Gin," Harry began, "the thing is…the dreams we are both having—they're not about you and me. Though I know it feels like it. It's about my parents."

Ginny's mouth opened in surprise and disbelief. "Your parents?"

"Yeah," Harry said. Harry didn't want to tell her about any more details before she was strong enough to take them all in. "I haven't really worked it out yet, Dumbledore's got all these really weird riddles."

Harry assisted Ginny as she tried to sit up. She looked at him intently beneath furrowed brows. "What do you think he's trying to say?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted, staring at the emerald ring on Ginny's hand. "He doesn't want us to remove our rings, though."

"Weird," Ginny agreed. Then she grinned sheepishly. "Not that I want to remove it."

Harry smiled at her again. He watched her stretch her arms and give out an enormous yawn. She looked so childish and cute as she did. 

"Where are the others?" she asked.

"Oh, your brothers are probably in Gryffindor Tower, waiting for you to come around," Harry replied, trying not to think about Ron. "And Hermione, can you believe it? I found her in the library yesterday, probably doing homework—"

"Harry," Ginny suddenly said, "I told Bridget I'd help her with her Transfiguration homework. Have you seen her?"

Harry stopped. He looked into Ginny's anticipating eyes. No, he couldn't tell her. Not now. He looked away.

"Harry," Ginny said, her voice rising. _"Harry."_

Harry forced himself to look at her again. He shook his head. "I'm sorry," he finally managed to croak out.

"Why?" Ginny insisted.

Harry shook his head again, seeing Ginny's eyes fill with tears. He couldn't speak. He just did what he thought was right and important—he reached over and pulled her into his arms.

Ginny began to sob bitterly into his shirt. He patted her back, trying to comfort her the way she did that night in the common room. But he didn't seem able to do so.

"Potter, what are you doing here?" came Madam Pomfrey's irritated voice.

Ginny and Harry broke apart. Madam Pomfrey gasped when she saw Ginny's tear-stricken face. She immediately fussed about her. "What is the meaning of this, Potter?" she reprimanded him. "She's recovering! What did you do to make her cry?"

Harry began to explain, but Madam Pomfrey shooed him out of the hospital wing without letting him say goodbye to Ginny. He last saw her, as Madam Pomfrey closed the door, burying her face into her pillow, still crying.

Harry felt an emptiness settling in his chest. He closed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, angry with himself for not being able to make her feel better.


	9. The Truth About Ginny

Family 

Chapter Nine  
The Truth About Ginny

The Gryffindors moved back to Gryffindor Tower the next day, but the professors decided not to hold any classes until after another week had passed.  
  
Bridget Myers, Mark Graham and Jude Connolly from Ravenclaw, and Sarah Wilson from Hufflepuff had been sent back to their families at home, albeit under very tight security. Only a handful of students from the hospital wing were released that morning—however, Harry received news that although Madam Pomfrey was still not letting in any visitors (except very important ones) in the hospital wing, she would be letting Ginny return to the Tower that evening.  
  
Feeling considerably lighter, although still burdened, Harry made his way towards the Great Hall for breakfast alone. Usually, at eight-thirty, the Great Hall was already filled, but it wasn't on that day. And the few who were already there were extremely subdued.  
  
Harry sat down and helped himself to some bacon and toast. As he quietly began to eat, he noticed Parvati and Lavender out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"This can't be right, your homework says it'll be next month!" exclaimed Parvati who was sitting about five empty chairs away from Harry as she studied a bit of parchment.  
  
"I can't be wrong this time!" Lavender retorted. "I'm sure of it. This month. And Ginny is now—"  
  
Harry's fork fell on his plate with a clatter. The two girls jumped up, looking horrified at the sight of Harry.  
  
"What?" Harry asked.  
  
Parvati and Lavender looked at each other, their faces losing color.  
  
"What about Ginny?" Harry said, his voice growing louder.  
  
Parvati nudged Lavender on the shoulder and frowned at her, as if trying to convince her to tell Harry whatever it was they had been talking about. Finally, Lavender motioned for Harry to come over.  
  
They were reading Tarot cards. Harry groaned inwardly and was about to turn away when Parvati took hold of his sleeve.  
  
"Harry, you have to listen to her," said Parvati.  
  
Harry gave her an exasperated look, hardly noticing that he had never been as rude as this to the two of them. "Why?"  
  
"Because it concerns…someone very important to you."  
  
Harry sniffed. "Right. And I certainly mind you meddling with her _future_."  
  
Lavender was looking intently at the cards, but when Harry said the last word, she flinched slightly.  
  
"Harry," Lavender began very awkwardly, "…something's wrong with Ginny."  
  
Harry snickered sardonically and shook his head. "I _know_ something's wrong with her," he said. "Haven't you checked out the hospital wing yet?"  
  
"It's not that," Lavender went on quietly. "So she's supposed to be leaving the hospital wing now—right? But it doesn't seem as if she's perfectly okay now. You have to watch out for her. The curse seems to have remained—"  
  
Harry slammed a hand on the table, causing the other Gryffindors to look their way. "Listen!" he yelled angrily at Parvati and Lavender. "I've had enough of this Divination crap! I don't have to listen to you!"  
  
Parvati and Lavender stared at him, horror-struck. Lavender's Tarot cards had been strewn all over the place. Noticing this, she scooped them up, and Harry saw tears forming in her eyes. He suddenly felt bad. He had never raised his voice like that at a girl before.  
  
He threw his palms up in apology. "Look," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."  
  
Parvati looked away with a pained look in her eyes. Having enough, Harry turned around and stormed out of the Great Hall—but not without meeting a delighted-looking Malfoy.  
  
"Not you again," Harry said, feeling his body tense up.  
  
Malfoy's trademark sneer was still pasted on his bloodless face. "Know what, Potter?" he drawled. "Brown was right. Maybe you should watch out for the Weasley brat's back. While the Dark Lord is after you…they'll also be after _her_."  
  
Harry glared at him, but that didn't stop his blood from running cold.  
  
Harry let the feeling of dread in his chest subside. When he thought it already had, he looked Malfoy straight in the eye.  
  
"Tell you what," he said in a low voice. "Leave us alone, and I'll take care of Voldemort." 

Malfoy's smoky gray eyes widened. Harry turned away and headed back to Gryffindor Tower calmly, although the feeling of dread didn't leave him.  
  
  
  
_It wasn't your fault. She was brave, wasn't she? She saved those third years— _  
  
_What if I hadn't held her up outside Honeydukes? What if I convinced her to run away with the others?_  
  
_Would you have saved the third years that way? _  
  
_I might have. Who the hell knows?_  
  
Harry rubbed his forehead, absently running his fingers over his scar. He had been talking to himself like this for a whole hour, back and forth, wallowing in guilt and all the while contradicting himself, alone in their dormitory.  
  
He was thinking of what Malfoy—Draco Malfoy, that is—said an hour ago. _"While the Dark Lord is after you…they'll also be after her."_ He had tried to ignore it, but the truth in it became much stronger as he thought about it.  
  
What was the guarantee of keeping Ginny safe when he continued to beclose to her? Voldemort was bound to know, one way or another. What if he learned about his feelings for her? He would put her in more trouble. _Why_ hadn't he seen these things before?  
  
Harry buried his face in his hands. Malfoy putting a curse on Ginny might have been partly due to the fact that Harry had been there, and Malfoy wanted to make Harry suffer or something…Harry squirmed around, guilt washing over him again.  
  
_What if I somehow blocked Malfoy's curse? _  
  
_What was that curse, anyway? _  
  
Harry's eyes snapped open. The curse…he was so caught up in Ginny's safety that he hadn't given it a thought. Of course! _The curse._ He couldn't remember what it was, but if he could only read it somewhere—  
  
Harry bolted upright and headed downstairs. The last place he wanted to go to that day was the library, but it could give him the answers. At least that would be one question off his mind.  
  
But just as he climbed out of the portrait hole, he almost slammed into a tall someone's body.  
  
It was Ron's. He was looking at Harry indifferently. Harry stepped aside clumsily, letting Ron enter.  
  
_What are you waiting for?_ something in his head was asking. _Get it over with!_  
  
"Ron—hang on," he blurted out.  
  
Ron was about to say the password when Harry spoke. He turned back to Harry. The Fat Lady looked on curiously.  
  
"Yeah." Ron's tone was flat.  
  
"Listen," Harry said. This was going to be hard. He hadn't rehearsed any apology speech or anything, and he certainly didn't expect to be giving it off the cuff. "Er—I mean—come on." His shoulders slumped forward. "Ginny's coming out a while later, everything's fine."  
  
By the look on Ron's face, it seemed as if it wasn't—at least between the two of them.  
  
"Maybe you'd want to leave her alone, then, rather than make her join you in your heroics," he replied sourly.  
  
Harry fought to cool off his rising temper. "She did that of her own free will," he said softly.  
  
"Free will." Ron laughed sarcastically. "Yeah, I'll be damned she did. Just because you're famous Harry Potter doesn't mean you can do and have everything."  
  
That hit a nerve. Ron was very good at doing that. Harry snapped and found himself saying an awful lot of off-topic things that he had wanted to say since the day Hermione told him about Ron's hidden jealousy in their fourth year.  
  
"That's just it," he said, clenching his fists. "I'm famous Harry Potter. For that reason, everyone's after my blood, everything's my fault, I'm not even _free_ to love the one I want to, and I don't have a family to begin with. Yeah, a _family_, Ron." At that point he wanted to throw a punch at Ron's face, which was about a head higher than his. "You have no idea how much I envy you. _You're_ the one who's got everything." 

Ron's irate expression seemed to have faltered at that point, but he didn't say anything. Harry and Ron stood there, glaring for a long while, the Fat Lady looking on amusedly. After what seemed like ages, Harry spoke again. "I care for Ginny. A lot. And you know it. And you know that I didn't want her hurt, and I won't _ever_ let her get hurt again."  
  
When he got that out, he realized how wholeheartedly true it was.  
  
Ron was studying him. At last, he sighed and softened his gaze at Harry.  
  
"I love my sister too, you know," Ron said. "And I can't stand it when I see her the way she is now."  
  
Ron turned to the portrait hole. "Shazam," he muttered and stepped in.  
  
Harry stared after him, remembering what he had just said.  
  
_I won't let her get hurt again. _  
  
It took him a while to recall what he was about to do until he held Ron up. He marched down to the library, unsurprised that it was almost empty.  
  
Harry went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts section and took out three heavy books. He browsed through _A Concise Encyclopedia of Curses, Hexes and Jinxes_ first, feeling sure that the first word of the curse began with a cunk" sound. But nothing in the list triggered his memory—it wasn't there. He was beginning to leaf through the whole book when he heard a female voice say, "Fancy seeing you here."  
  
"Hermione," Harry said, looking back down on the book. "Studying right after all that's happened. I should've known."  
  
Hermione ignored his comment. "What are you looking for?"  
  
"That curse Lucius Malfoy used on Ginny," said Harry matter-of-factly.  
  
"Does it matter?" she asked. "I mean, she'll be okay, right?"  
  
Harry glanced up at her. "I dunno," he muttered. "I just…thought of looking for it."  
  
Hermione drummed her fingers on the desk, biting her lips as if she was aching to tell Harry something. Harry looked at her, annoyed. "Let me guess. You want to talk about Ron."  
  
Hermione was clearly taken aback. "Why, yes," she said, blinking.  
  
"And did you tell him what a flippin' prat he is?"  
  
"Oh, Harry," Hermione groaned. "I know he didn't mean what he said, about you being—look, I just _know_," she insisted when Harry opened his mouth to protest. "It's just a big brother thing, he's being overprotective—"  
  
"This isn't any Big Brother Theory, Hermione," Harry hissed. "It's the Harry Potter Spells Trouble Theory! For that reason, the whole Weasley clan is waging war against me!"  
  
"Fred and George are being very supportive!" Hermione shot back while trying to keep her voice to a minimum. "And you're not even sure if Mrs. Weasley is still mad at you, after the twins cleared everything up."  
  
Harry slammed the book shut. "You don't know how it feels," said Harry, "being responsible for those who get hurt while I had been there—_because_ I had been there," he corrected himself. "It was like that for Cedric. And my whole family."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why do you still carry all that old guilt? It wasn't your fault. Nothing was your fault. Everything happens for a reason. Not everything revolves around you—you're not God, for His sake!"  
  
Harry threw his hands up. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Look at it this way. Until we defeat Voldemort—" Hermione winced at that point—"he will always be after me. And if he learns—heck, I think he already has—" something gnawed at the pit of his stomach as he said that, "—they'll go chasing after Ginny because of me. I couldn't let her take that risk."  
  
Hermione looked at him, absentmindedly twiddling a nearby quill. "What if _she's willing to take the risk?"  
  
Harry stared at her.  
  
"Think about it," Hermione finished. She picked up a book and began reading, leaving Harry to his own thoughts.  
  
  
  
When Ginny came back to the common room that evening, Fred and George were ecstatic. They initiated the first few laughs in Gryffindor Tower since Saturday afternoon, and before long, quite a few Gryffindors had joined them. The laughter wasn't as energetic as they were usually, but it was decidedly better than no laughter at all.  
  
Harry was subdued all evening, however. He had been sitting at an oddly familiar spot, until he realized it was where he had been staying when he taught Ginny simple things about Muggle items—what was it again? Batteries and stuff. How different things were just a little over two months ago. It had been a peaceful night, and he and Ron were making fun of their predictions again. There had been nothing to worry about. No one then had died three days ago….  
  
Ginny was sitting on an armchair in front of the fire, her cheeks looking far more radiant than they had been since Harry's visit in the hospital wing. She was laughing at Fred and George's jokes, but something was missing in the way she laughed. It must have been her eyes. They didn't light up the way they usually did when she smiled.  
  
Fred yawned. "Hey, George, how about pilfering the kitchens for some food?"  
  
Ginny caught Harry's gaze. They grinned at each other knowingly, although Harry knew he was straining himself to do so.  
  
"Go get it," George said lazily. "Speaking of food…we really have to stock up on some before long." He ruffled Ginny's hair. "Seventh of May, remember?"  
  
Ginny beamed at him. "I wonder why I had forgotten about it," she said.  
  
"Ah," said Fred wisely. "You know. At times like these, it's easy to forget."  
  
"Naw, c'mon, Fred," George said lightly. "Ickle Ginny was thinking about…you know. Other things. Or should I say _people_?" His eyes momentarily flicked to Harry's direction.  
  
Harry felt his cheeks grow warm. It was enough that George talked about him and Ginny in front of everyone in the common room—it was just that he hadn't remembered, either. He only kept a calendar on Privet Drive, not at Hogwarts. And he hadn't marked anyone's birthday except his.  
  
Ginny was turning fifteen in a week.  
  
Ron wasn't laughing along at the last joke, and Harry had enough reasons why. Ron didn't speak to Harry all evening, but he seemed to be a lot less cold, too. Meanwhile, as he tried to go along with Fred and George's jokes, he was treating Ginny as if she were a bomb about to detonate, or glass about to break.  
  
Harry watched Ginny make her way to a couple of third-year boys who sat huddled on a corner. He immediately recognized them as the two who normally hung out with Bridget Myers. Harry couldn't make out even snatches of their conversation, but it was clear that Ginny was consoling them.  
  
"Of course, drinks are necessary," Fred was saying. "We'll have to put off the Butterbeers, though."  
  
Hermione groaned. "Please don't remind us all," she said.  
  
"Right." Fred smiled apologetically. "There'll be music, of course, and lights."  
  
"Ballroom dancing!" George said enthusiastically. "We can learn a lesson or two from Ginny."  
  
Ron looked around in confusion. "They teach ballroom dancing in Muggle Studies, Ron," explained Hermione.  
  
"They do?" Ron let out a guffaw. He shoved Hermione lightly. "So you learned how to when _you_ took up Muggle Studies?"  
  
"They teach ballroom dancing in fourth year."  
  
Ron pretended to look disappointed. "And I wanted to dance with you."  
  
"Oh, dance with her already," muttered George. "Don't tell me you still don't know how to foxtrot, at least."  
  
"What's the big deal about my birthday, Fred?" Ginny called from the corner.  
  
George looked at her in mock indignation. "Why, we wanted this to be a special one for you!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Trying to make me feel better, huh?"  
  
"Well, yeah!" George said. "I mean, it's nice having you back!"  
  
"Gee, thanks," Ginny replied dryly, but she was smiling. "But really, don't make a fuss about it, just…bring me a pie or something and I'll be grateful. I'm okay already…okay?"  
  
"We're going to need more convincing than that," Fred said.  
  
Patting the two third-year boys' hands kindly, she stood up and walked to the couch where the twins were sitting, and hugged Fred around the neck tightly. Fred was clearly taken aback; it took him a while to recover from shock, as if little sisters never hug their brothers. Fred grinned, finally, and hugged her back just as tightly.  
  
Harry heard Hermione sniffle beside Ron. Ron looked choked up as well.  
  
Ginny pulled away. "Convinced?" she asked.  
  
George was smiling at her. "Pretty much. But that doesn't stop us from having fun on your birthday."  
  
This time, Ginny's smile looked genuine. She hugged George as well. "I love you guys _so_ much," she said.  
  
"Yeah, we love you too, kiddo," George said, ruffling her hair again.  
  
Ginny caught Harry's eyes for the second time that night. Harry gave her a nod and smiled serenely.  
  
As midnight approached, the common room slowly emptied, until it was Harry, Ginny, the twins, Ron and Hermione left. Among the six of them, Hermione was the first to give in to sleep.  
  
"I think I'm going, too," said Ron to no one in particular. He gave Ginny's arm a squeeze. "'Night."  
  
"'Night, Ron," Ginny said softly, tiptoeing to kiss him on the cheek. Ron's ears turned pinkish as she did. Harry had to bite back a smile—clearly, Ron was not very articulate in showing his love for Ginny. But then again, Ginny _rarely_ kissed Ron.  
  
Fred elbowed George on the ribs and winked at him. "Shouldn't we be going to _sleep_ too, George?"  
  
"Oh—but of course!" George promptly stood up. "You don't mind, do you, Harry?"  
  
"No," Harry said, standing up and joining Ginny on the leather couch. "I'll stay. Make sure she goes to bed."  
  
Fred raised an eyebrow. "Yours, Harry?"_

_"Hers!"_ Harry said indignantly. "And no, I'll go to sleep on my own bed," he added when Fred and George looked even more scandalized.  
  
"The couch already looks fine to me," said George, not missing a beat. "And it's soft fragrant _leather_."  
  
Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brothers. "Shut it, you two."  
  
"All right, then," Fred said. He and George began climbing up the stairs to their dormitory. "Be fertile and multiply."  
  
_"Move it,"_ Ginny growled.  
  
"G'night to you too, Gin," George said, snickering with Fred.  
  
Fred and George had barely disappeared when Fred went down again. "Seriously, Harry, I know the couch is tempting, but don't do anything bad to my sister, okay?"  
  
"I _won't_," Harry said, not bothering to contain his laughter. Fred winked at him and headed upstairs.  
  
"They're disgusting," said Ginny as they heard a door slam shut. "They're always like that. Charlie, Bill and Ron too…never mind Perce, though—he's the gentleman among them, but he's also the most boring." Ginny grinned at him. "Can you imagine living with such jerks?"  
  
Harry gave her a strained smile that was too obvious.  
  
Ginny peered at him through concerned brown eyes. "You've been awfully quiet all evening. Something wrong?"  
  
Harry looked back at her. He knew it wasn't right, asking Ginny about what had happened in Honeydukes…but he couldn't help himself. He forced himself to look straight into her eyes. "Gin—I was just thinking." He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "Did you…by any chance, did you hear the curse Malfoy put on you?"  
  
Ginny blinked in surprise. Harry, however, had the impression that Ginny was half expecting him to ask that question.  
  
Ginny hesitated before answering. "Yes," she said.  
  
Harry felt a sense of foreboding. "And…you remember what it is?"  
  
This time, Ginny obviously didn't seem to want to meet his eyes. "Why do you want to know?"  
  
"Gin, I _have_ to know."  
  
"I…didn't want to tell anybody. Especially you."  
  
Harry frowned. "Tell me what? The curse?"  
  
Ginny looked up at him. Her eyes were unnaturally bright. "Harry," she whispered slowly, "whatever I'm going to tell you tonight—please don't tell anyone else—especially my brothers."  
  
Harry shook his head. He was beginning to feel extremely anxious. "Why? I don't understand."  
  
"Promise me," Ginny insisted.  
  
Harry pursed his lips. Finally, he nodded hesitantly.  
  
He soon wished he hadn't. He wasn't prepared for what Ginny told him.  
  
"Harry…I'm not okay yet."  
  
It took a while for her words to sink in. "What do you mean?"  
  
Ginny paused, then stood up and walked slowly towards the study table, where her books were still stacked on top of one another. He straightened up and followed her. She took a black-bound book from the top of the stack and handed it to him.  
  
It was _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts._ "It's in there. I had it marked."  
  
Ginny had marked the book on the chapter devoted to the curses used exclusively by the Death Eaters. He scanned the pages and immediately found what he was looking for: _Cunctantis__ aegrotatio. _  
  
_Cunctantis__ aegrotatio. A deadly curse. The victim of this curse will acquire something that resembles a lethal disease. It slowly eats the systems from the inside. The victim will remain conscious for two to four weeks after the curse has been cast, depending on the part of the body that is hit by the curse. Afterwards, the victim will lapse into a coma wherein he/she will never wake again— _  
  
Harry's eyes flew to the bottom of the page, and what he read made his heart stop.  
  
_There is no chance of recovery. There is no counter-curse._  
  
The book slipped from Harry's hands and hit the study table with a loud _thunk_.  
  
Harry's breath came out in ragged, uneven gasps. He couldn't bear to look at Ginny. He couldn't think, except for one thought that ran through his head over and over again: _No, not her. It can't be her. Not Ginny. Not her. Not my Ginny. Oh God, please, not her._  
  
"Harry," came Ginny's soft voice, "please look at me."  
  
Harry's limbs were shaking as he forced himself to look at Ginny's painfully beautiful face.  
  
"It wasn't your fault."  
  
Harry needed to grasp the edges of the table. "I should've been the one," he gasped.  
  
"It doesn't matter," Ginny said. "It happened for a reason. And knowing that I saved those third years' lives—as well as yours—I'm forever glad."  
  
"How can you take this so lightly?" Harry asked angrily, though he couldn't bear to raise his voice. "Don't you understand what this lot's supposed to mean?"  
  
"I do," Ginny replied quietly. "I'm going to die."  
  
Harry felt a lump rapidly forming in his throat. "You can't," he choked out. Tears were already threatening to fall from his eyes. "I love you."  
  
Harry's very heart ached. He had never heard himself say those words to anyone in his whole life. He didn't know he could actually say it. He only wished he could have said it to Ginny Weasley in a better way.  
  
Ginny's own eyes glistened with tears. She approached Harry and put a soft, cool hand on his cheek and caressed it fleetingly. "I love you too, Harry. That's why I know my sacrifice was worth it."  
  
The tears began cascading down Ginny's cheeks. Harry wanted so badly to wipe them away, wanted to embrace her and not let go—but he was momentarily paralyzed. Ginny's hand left his face; she turned around and headed for the girls' staircase. All Harry could do was stare after her retreating figure.  
  
Harry didn't feel himself slump back on the couch. He didn't even feel the tears that began coursing their way down his face continuously.


	10. Sunrise

** Family**  
  
_Chapter Ten  
Sunrise_  


James! James! Lily cried excitedly. Come over here for a moment.

James set his cup of coffee down on the bedside table and sat beside Lily on their bed. What is it?

Lily took his hand and put his palm on her belly. She's kicking.

James knotted his forehead, waiting. Suddenly he felt it—something inside Lily's belly bumped his hand.

James exclaimed. He can't wait to get out of there!

Lily chided, patting her belly. Not yet, little one. Wait another four months—whoops! Lily chuckled aloud as she felt another kick.

James laughed. This boy's going to be a bit impulsive, if you ask me. Probably even mischievous, like his dad.

Lily sighed. I hope not. And she's going to be a _girl_, James.

A boy, James insisted. And we're going to name him James Junior.

Lily rolled her eyes. James _Junior_? She began to giggle.

C'mon, Lil, I've already got his future all planned out! James protested. He's going to grow up to be a cute little boy, he'll learn to ride a toy broomstick as soon as he learns to walk on his own—and he's going to be an excellent Quidditch player for Gryffindor once he goes to Hogwarts. He'll learn all the secret passages out of the castle, too. Mischievous as he'll be, he'll still be the star student of his class.

Seems like his whole life is going to be a big adventure, Lily said dryly.

He'll be Head Boy too! And after he graduates, he's going to propose to the girl he's loved since his Hogwarts days, and they'll marry, and I'll have grandchildren of my own—

Lily interrupted, shouldn't we be thinking about James _Junior_'s birth first before we think about having grandchildren? She couldn't seem to get over their child's name.

James stopped. He laughed heartily once more, and this time, Lily joined him.

James caressed the bundle of joy that was inside Lily—the child waiting to see the light of the world. You know, he began as they quieted down, whatever the future holds for our child hereI could only pray that it will be the best life he can possibly have. Peaceful, free of worries and fear—surrounded by the ones he'll love—

Lily gazed into her husband's face, her eyes shining. We'll always be there for her, won't we?

__ James corrected her.

Lily grinned, and James, smiling back, bent over to kiss her forehead. Yes, Lily. We'll always be there for him.

* * *

The first rays of sunshine hit Harry Potter in the face.  
  
Harry slowly opened his eyes and looked around him. The sky over the horizon was clear, but gray-bottomed clouds loomed dangerously overhead. Squinting, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and sat up.

_It had been real,_ he thought. If it hadn't been, he wouldn't have sought refuge here, in the place he always went to when he was feeling miserable.

And he felt worse than miserable. He already knew too well what _miserable_ felt like. But this was different. It was almost as if he could actually feel his heart breaking.  
  
But then again, he thought, maybe it already had.  
  
Harry found himself clutching the grass he had been sitting on as last night's events came rushing back to him. He wanted to cry, to shout out angrily, to curse everything around himthe sky even seemed to feel his misery, for it began to drizzle.  
  
Last night, when Ginny had gone to bed, he had picked up _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ again and agonizingly read the part of the paragraph he had skipped—  
  
_The curse was very rarely used, for the Death Eaters generally used _Avada Kedavra_, the Killing Curse, when they wanted to destroy. When the Cunctantis Curse was used, however, it was mostly for the mental and emotional torture of the loved ones of the one on whom the curse was cast. It was not very popular for the fact that the Death Eaters commonly used the Cruciatus Curse when they tortured—_  
  
_So it's really my fault,_ Harry thought now. Somehow Lucius Malfoy knew of his feelings. Why else would he want to kill Ginny slowly? Didn't he say so himself? _The Dark Lord is going to be very pleased when I deliver you to him._ And Draco Malfoy had hinted at it—_While the Dark Lord is after youthey'll also be after _her_._  
  
Looking back to his childhood, Harry realized that he had never cared for anyone the way he cared for Ginny Weasley. But what did it matter? It had been so much easier when he had no one to care for deeply, than having someone very special who would leave him in the end. It had been his parents. Then it was Ginny. Wouldn't he ever have anyone to love at all?  
  
Harry waited for the tears to come again, but they didn't. It was as though he had already shed all the tears he had during the night.  
  
Ron had a reason for telling him to stay away from Ginny, after all. Of course he didn't want her hurt. Harry knew he was really a magnet for trouble, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. All of them had a point. It wasn't worth loving someone at the risk of her life.  
  
If only he had known what the curse was earlier, then he'd have certainly stayed away and never told her of his feelings.

But someone already knew.

Harry stood up. The rain was now pouring down heavily. His dressing gown and pajamas were already soaking wet and muddy. In a daze, he made his way back to the castle.

Around the Forbidden Forest, past the lakea bolt of lightning flashed, illuminating the Hogwarts castle. Balling his hands into fists, Harry stormed into the castle, intent on doing what seemed to make perfect sense at that moment: go to Dumbledore and ask him a number of questions.  
  
Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the stone gargoyle; the password to Dumbledore's office. He took a deep breath.

Cockroach clusters.

The gargoyle did not budge.

Lemon drop, chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, sugar quills—damn you! Let me in! I want to speak to Dumbledore!

Harry heard a low growl beside him. It was the large black dog—Padfoot. The dog was glaring at him, his yellow eyes menacing, his fangs bared.  
  
I have a mile-long list of questions for Dumbledore, Snuffles, Harry snarled. Get out of the way.  
  
Snuffles began to bark loudly. Harry felt his temper rise up—if any professor were to find out what he was doing, he'd be in detention for sure—

And sure enough, a professor arrived.

Harry? What _is_ happening here?

Harry and Snuffles looked up. The gargoyle sprang back to its guarding position; Albus Dumbledore was now standing in front of Harry.

he said again.

Harry swallowed. Dumbledore was as calm as ever. Harry suddenly forgot all of those things he'd wanted to say, all the questions he ached to ask. Dumbledore merely gazed at him, his blue eyes searching Harry's own.

Why didn't you tell me? Harry finally managed to croak out.

Snuffles, who had looked alert when Dumbledore arrived, began to lower his body to the floor, his ears and tail drooping.

Dumbledore looked as though he was expecting Harry to say just that. He gazed longer at Harry before finally saying, If I knew of a better way to tell you, I would have. But there wasn't one...so I didn't.

What's a better way of telling _me_ that Ginny is going to _die_?

Dumbledore didn't say anything for a long while again. Harry bit his lip—he had never said anything as harsh as that to Dumbledore before, he had always respected him—  
  
There isn't one, Dumbledore replied quietly, just as calmly. But telling you that you can save her is certainly better.

Harry blinked. Of all the things he imagined Dumbledore saying, this certainly wasn't it. He was so taken by surprise that he didn't even have the time to realize that he was pleased about it.  
  
Dumbledore smiled quickly at him. Maybe you'd like to hear it in my office, Harry. Padfoot?

Sirius stood up silently.

said Dumbledore.

The gargoyle sprang aside and the wall behind it opened up like an elevator door. The three of them stepped onto the spiral staircase, which took them upward to the large oak door with the brass knocker in the shape of a griffin. Dumbledore opened the door and let Harry and Sirius in before entering himself.  
  
Sirius was transforming back to his human form when Dumbledore closed the door and went over to his desk. Sirius certainly looked better since he began staying in Hogwarts—he looked fuller, his hair was cropped short, and he was shaven. If it weren't for the haunted, haggard look on his face, he'd have looked like the handsome young man who appeared in Harry's dream.  
  
Harry noticed that several of the books on Dumbledore's desk were among those found in the Restricted Section of the library. One title that caught his eye—_The Nature of Death Eater Curses_—__was on a particularly large and nasty-looking blood-red book.

I've been researching a bit, said Dumbledore, noticing Harry's stare. Please have a seat.

Harry's mind was suddenly ringing with questions—_new_ ones. Was it possible that Dumbledore had unearthed a long-forgotten counter-curse? Or _had_ he invented one?

I don't get it, Professor, said Harry, in a completely different tone from the one he had used with Dumbledore earlier. I thought there was no counter-curse—it said so in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_—have you really made one, then?

Dumbledore began to smile. I certainly haven't. Creating counter-curses is not very difficult when you put your heart to it, true—but we're talking about a Death Eater curse here. That puts it right up there with the ranks of the Unforgivable Curses.

Harry swallowed. So—so there isn't

Dumbledore turned to Sirius and nodded once.

Sirius looked at Harry, but unlike Dumbledore, he wasn't smiling. he began, your parents were working on the counter-curse for the Cunctantis Curse right before they died.

It took a while for what Sirius had just said to sink in for Harry.

they _found_ it?

No one really knows, Sirius said. James updated me about it a few days before the three of you went into hiding...fourteen years ago. He told me then that they were very near the answer. Sirius's jaw began to harden, as if he was fighting something back. But only God knows if they did find out. If they left any record of their progress, it was all destroyed the night they Sirius's voice shook slightly when he said the last word.

Harry's mind was whirling. So no one knew if the counter-curse had really been invented. There were no records left, no witnesses, nothing. Lily and James Potter kept it to themselves. They were the _only_ witnesses.

But I dream about my parents, Harry said slowly, recalling the very last dream he just had. Ginny and I dream about them—a while ago I dreamed of them, and Mum was expecting _me_. Harry looked from Sirius to Dumbledore wildly. So—you mean—Ginny and I could—dream of them creating the counter-curse or something!

Sirius began to smile himself. 

That's why I didn't want you to remove the ring, said Dumbledore. You might dream of the counter-curse—they might tell you.

Something else nagged at the back of Harry's mind. what if they never did find out? Or what ifthey don't show us in our dreams?

They found out, and they _will_ show you in your dreams, Sirius insisted. His eyes were wide and gleaming. I'm ninety-nine percent sure of it.

Harry blinked. What about the remaining one percent?

The other ninety-nine is based on trust.

Harry looked at his godfather. Sirius merely nodded once, but Harry felt as if complete understanding flowed through them, and Harry, in that single moment, began to trust as well.

There arecertain risks that you must take, though, Harry, said Dumbledore, breaking the silence. Sirius looked up, his forehead creased—apparently, what Dumbledore was going to say was new to him as well. From what I see, the only possible way for the Cunctantis Curse to be broken is through the channeling of energy from one healthy person to the victim. And though the victim may be spared, there is little guarantee that the person who had given her that energy will be completely well afterward.

That person will be me, Harry said quickly and resolutely.

There's a _risk_? Sirius asked in disbelief. Isn't there any other way?

Yes, there is a risk, and there are no other ways, I'm afraid, said Dumbledore grimly. He turned to Harry. Harry, are you _sure_ of what you're saying?

Harry nodded. __

Dumbledore looked at him very seriously. You do realize that there is a possibility that you might_die_ in the process, don't you?

Harry faltered—but he weighed the options for just a second. He had made up his mind.

I don't care. I'll do it.

Dumbledore and Sirius stared at him for a long while, both studying him, as if measuring Harry's sincerity and determination.

With his lips pressed together in a grim, thin line, Dumbledore nodded at last.

The rain outside was now pouring down in torrents. As Harry climbed into the portrait hole, he heard a grumble of thunder—mixed with the sound of gentle female laughter.

Ginny and Hermione were talking in front of a blazing fire in the common room. Ginny was wearing a maroon bathrobe, and her hair was tied carelessly into a ponytail so that a few tendrils floated around her face. She had a serene smile playing on her lips as she listened to Hermione explain something that he couldn't quite understand.

For a while there, Harry stood, frozen, enraptured by how Ginny Weasley could look so beautiful—and peacefully happy—despite her sickness.

Hermione suddenly looked up at him, and her jaw dropped. Ginny turned around as well, but she didn't look shocked or anything; her shoulders, instead, slumped forward and her smile faltered.

What happened to you? Hermione asked urgently, standing up.

Harry shrugged. Went out for a bit of rain, he said. Now Ginny was looking at his muddy pajamas.

You shouldn't have been outside, Harry! Hermione shrieked, now that her initial shock seemed to have worn off. You know the professors _forbade_ us!

Harry shook his head and gave Ginny a quick, but meaningful, glance. I had to see the sunrise. He smiled as Ginny raised her eyebrows. See you in a bit.

After changing into slacks and a sweater in their dormitory, Harry went back down, to find Ginny sitting alone in front of the fire. Hermione, and indeed, everyone else, was nowhere to be found.

Where's Hermione? asked Harry.

She went off to find Ron, Ginny replied quietly. She didn't look at him—she merely stared into the fire, but a glance at her eyes told Harry that she wanted to say a lot.

Harry sat down beside her on the floor. Ginny, barely looking at him, sighed, hugging her knees together.

_I_'_m not going to let my guard down,_ thought Harry as he took a deep breath. _This is our only chance._

I just talked to Dumbledore, he said.  
  
Ginny looked at him in surprise. Harry merely smiled as he went on. I have good news.  
  
Ginny looked skeptical. Really good news?

Harry nodded. It's really amazing, it's as if my parents knew I'd be able to use it. See, when they were alive, they were working on the counter-curse for the Cunctantis Curse. But no one knows what came of it, since they died—only _they_ know. And, you know, you and I, we have these dreams about them

Ginny's eyes widened as the words began to sink in. Then you thinkI can actually

Harry said, grinning very widely and taking her hand in his. There's no need to be sad or anything, see? All I have to do is to find out what that spell is—Dumbledore said it involves transferring energy from—

Harry stopped when the excited, hopeful light in Ginny's eyes began to fade again. He knew he had said too much.

Transferring energy—you mean from you to me, right? she said softly. Aren't you going to get hurt or something when you do it?

Harry replied—too quickly. He watched Ginny's face fall.

Ginny slipped her hand out of Harry's grasp. You're lying to me, Harry.

I'm _not_! Harry retorted, suddenly feeling angry, even though he knew he _had_ lied. Don't you want to get well?

Of course I do, Ginny replied as tears began to fill her eyes. Of course I do. But not if you have to sacrifice for me.

Gin, you sacrificed for me and for those third-years in Honeydukes. Please, I want to repay you somehow—  
  
I don't need repayments, Harry Potter! Ginny abruptly yelled, angrily swiping the back of her hand across a tear-stained cheek. I did that of my own free will. I don't want anyone getting sick or dying because of _me_, because _I_ have to be saved. I _hate_ being the damsel in distress, you know that? Her chin trembled as she spoke. I don't want the world knowing that the boy who saved us all from the Dark Lord is going to die just because a plain girl like me—

Stop it! Harry bellowed, raising both palms up in frustration. Stop it, Ginny! The world doesn't need me—they don't even _know_ me. _You've_ got a lot of people close to you—you have a family, you'll break all their hearts if you let that curse—

So now you're saying that it's okay if it's you who's going to be wiped from the face of the planet instead, just because you don't have a _family_? What kind of an excuse is that?

It means everything. What would your parents say if you leave them?

Ginny glared at him, but not without her eyes glistening. Then, in a sudden swift motion, she held her right hand up and began to pull off the emerald ring with her other hand—

Harry shouted—and just in time, for he had grabbed both of her hands and wrenched them away from each other. Ginny whimpered, her voice full of pain. She gritted her teeth together and closed her eyes.

Harry, please, she whispered bitterly.

Harry said firmly. I won't let you.

Ginny let out a defeated whine. She finally collapsed into Harry's chest, and Harry welcomed her. He closed his own eyes and held her close and tight to him, savoring the moment, not wanting to let go.

All he ever wanted was to give Ginny a part of himself. He knew he'd do anything for her, and even if it was the slimmest chance they had—the _only_ chance they had—he was willing to gamble his life for it. Just for her.

Harry put his hands on either side of her face and carefully traced the path her tears created on her cheeks with his finger. Taking a deep breath, he said softly, I know the risk I'm going to take. I know I might die. But it's a lot better than not doing anything. He smiled briefly. You know, that's just what I was thinking when you were taken to the Chamber of Secrets—I knew I had to do something.

Ginny started to protest again, but Harry cut her off. I had thought then that there was no chance we'd find you down there, but you were there. He put a finger on her chin and tilted her head up. And I thinkwhile there's hope—even if it's only the slightest bit of hope we have—we have to take it.

Silence followed as Ginny moved away from him. She sat down on an armchair and buried her face in her hands, still sobbing. Harry knelt in front of her, hoping against hope that she would consent.

Ginny finally looked up, and she was smiling, a sad, bitter smile. she whispered as a new set of tears filled her eyes, I don't know what I'd do if God hadn't given me a sunrise person like you.

we'll do it?

Ginny gazed into his eyes. _Please say yes,_ Harry willed his own eyes to tell her. _Please say yes._

All right, she murmured, at long last. We'll do it.

Harry let his breath out. He suddenly realized that the rain outside had stopped; only pinpricks of drizzle were now dripping onto the glass window. Rays of sunshine were now breaking out of the gloomy gray clouds.

Harry turned back to Ginny. Do you mind another night wandering, Gin?

Ginny blinked in surprise. What? Why?

I want to show you the sunrise.

Just as Harry had predicted, the stars appeared again when he and Ginny sneaked out of the castle just before sunrise the next morning. Harry knew he was taking another risk, bringing Ginny out onto the grounds without anyone knowing, but he knew he couldn't let this opportunity pass him by. He wanted to show Ginny that there was hope, and they had to cling to it, no matter what happened.

You want to know something, Harry? she asked as Harry removed the Invisibility Cloak from over her head.

Ginny was slightly blushing as she brushed her hair out of her eyes. Promise me you won't laugh first.

I promise you I won't laugh, Harry said. Now spill.

Ginny sat down on the damp patch of grass, right where Harry had been sleeping the previous morning. She was looking above her, at the sky which was slowly turning from navy blue to a lighter violet. After third year I told myself I should get over you.

Harry sat down beside her. And you did.

Yeah—or at least I thought so.

he asked. Why? What happened?

She shrugged. I don't knowit was like I was trying to be aloof to you. Then I saw youfeeling lonely and alland I knew you needed someone. And I realized that all I ever wanted was to give you a part of me, to comfort you, and towell, love you with all my heart. She looked up at him and smiled, somewhat shyly, and just as her cheeks reddened, she ducked her face out of his sight. Silly, huh?

Harry felt his own cheeks getting warmer by the minute as well, but it was matched by a giddy, happy feeling from deep within his chest.

He edged closer to Ginny so that their shoulders were touching.

A few quiet minutes passed by as they watched the sky change hues—from violet to pinkish-orange, then to nearly blue. They were listening to birds twittering, feeling the air warming their skins, breathing the sweet scent of the morning.

And suddenly, Ginny gasped. For they were sitting atop a sloping ground, and in front of them, a valley became clear—green, and breathtakingly beautiful. Mountains just as green with trees, both evergreen and deciduous, bordered the valley on the north, east and south, and at the eastern horizon in front of them, the sun, in all its glory and magnificence, peeked out behind the mountains. The small birds on the tree just beside them began to fly off towards the sun.

Ginny sat there, awed at the splendor of nature. She was probably feeling what Harry had felt when he first saw the sunrise himself, right there, when he was feeling lonely. It was his secret place, his hideout from the world, and he was now sharing it with Ginny.

she whispered. Probably the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Ginny, smiling serenely, looked at Harry. He was staring at her, sensing a strange feeling—it seemed as if something was pulling him toward Ginny. It was as though he wanted to actually kiss her.

Ginny tilted her head to one side, her forehead creased in an expression of puzzlement. And it suddenly struck Harry how innocent and vulnerable she was.

Harry smiled back. I know, he replied softly. That's why I wanted you to see it.

Ginny nodded, still smiling. She leaned closer to Harry and laid her head on his shoulder. Harry gingerly put an arm around her and took her right hand in his, entwining his fingers in her soft, cool ones, and their rings glowed, and Harry let out a contented sigh.

Something Ron had said before came back to Harry. _It's a different feeling, having a warm body just beside you, and you've got the liberty to just reach out and hug itit's this feeling that you're with someone you can give your whole heart to._

Harry grinned to himself, pulling Ginny closer. _Mush,_ he thought. _You've fallen pretty hard._

  
  
Harry was sitting on his four-poster bed two days later, books strewn all around him. Ginny had gone to bed early, and without Hermione to talk to (Ron still wasn't speaking to him), he thought he'd make a head start on the O.W.L.s. But although his regular school books such as _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five_ and _Unfogging the Future_ were opened, there were also books that certainly looked out-of-place there: _The Muggle Theory on Signals and Communication_ and _Bewitching Muggle Artifacts: All the Hows, Whys, and Why Nots_.  
  
Harry was beginning to feel tired himself, but looking at his alarm clock, he saw that it was only ten in the evening. There was a throbbing pain inside his head—but it was not his scar, at least. He seemed to be getting migraines.  
  
A loud tapping on the windowpane jerked Harry wide awake again. He looked and saw a large snowy owl carrying a package and tapping its beak on the window.  
  
Harry said, jumping off his bed and hurrying to let his owl in. Hedwig quickly sailed into the room and landed on Harry's bed.

Harry opened his bedside cabinet and pulled out a small pack of Owl Treats, which he offered Hedwig. With an affectionate nip at his finger, she took it, and Harry began untying the package tied to her feet.

There was a short letter attached to it.

_Deal still stands. I hate doing favors for you and seeing your owl and sending stuff through this weird way, so you'd better keep your word._

_Dudley_

Harry laughed out loud despite his tiredness. What word? He hadn't threatened his cousin or anythingbut apparently, the memory of Harry catching him watching pornographic movies last summer was still fresh in Dudley's mind.

Harry was starting to rip open the package when Ron opened the door to their dormitory. Ron looked at him and his strewn books for a while, then headed for his bed. Harry saw that he saw slightly flushed.

_Hermione,_ Harry thought idly, smiling to himself. _She does things to him._

Hedwig had finished the pack of Owl Treats and had dipped her beak into Harry's evening pumpkin juice. Thanks, Hedwig, he muttered, stroking her feathery head. She playfully cuffed him on the head and flew out of the room.

Chuckling softly to himself, Harry went over to close the window, when he felt his head spin all of a sudden. He clutched his head in both hands and shut his eyes, waiting for the pain to subside.

Hey—you okay? Ron said, sounding alarmed.

The pain had receded, and Harry opened his eyes. Ron was looking at him apprehensively.

Harry said. Yeah, I'm okay.

Is it your scar?

No, thank God, said Harry, sitting down on his bed. I think I just need a bit of rest.

If you're sure....

Yeah, Ron. I'm okay.

Harry pretended to busy himself with arranging his books, but he was privately glad that Ron had said a few words to him—and he sounded concerned, too.

Ron began, and this time, he sounded uneasy. how are you and Ginny?

Harry was so surprised at hearing _that_ question from Ron that he dropped _Unfogging the Future_ on the floor. Er—what do you mean?

I mean, er, are youyou know

_Snogging? Sneaking out together? WHAT?_ Harry waited with bated breath.

Are youer, a couple already?

Harry started to laugh, relief washing over him. Not really. But then, he stopped and considered it, and feeling considerably bolder, went on. There's an understanding, if that's what you mean.

Are you sure? Now Ron's voice was even and serious.

I reckon so, said Harry. 

Ron quickly looked away. 

Oh. Okay. Harry brushed off the crumbs Hedwig had left on his bed, waiting for Ron's next words. Harry sensed in the tense air that Ron wanted to say something else.

It came, and what he said made Harry fight to keep himself from jumping to the ceiling in delight. That's good, said Ron evenly. real happy for you.

Harry felt muscles tug his lips upward. Thank you, he said sincerely.

Ron merely nodded, but Harry saw a hint of a grin in his blue eyes.  
  
Harry climbed into his bed. He could have hugged Ron senseless, but then again, it wasn't a very manly thing to do.

  
  
  
_**Jenna's Notes:** MUUUUUUUSH!  
I love Ron.   
So why didn't Harry kiss Ginny? Because _I_ write this story, and I _loathe_ men who take advantage of a very romantic moment and slobber all over you. Urgh. And so, knowing Harry, I just _knew_ he wouldn't do that. =) As you can see, I'm cynical in real life.  
By the way -- Alysia Twilight, thanks for the Latin lesson. :D I knew from the very beginning that it's a weird-sounding curse! Can you suggest anything for it?   
Big thanks to Lisa...again! _


	11. Meet the Parents

**Family**

_Chapter Ten  
Meet the Parents_

"Ronald Weasley! For the love of God, wake up!"

"Go 'way, Fred, 's still early."

"It's George, idiot, and if you don't wake up…."

Harry let out a loud grunt and groggily buried his head under his pillow, blocking out the noise. Then he heard someone opening the curtains of his four-poster.

"And you too, Mister. What kind of a boyfriend are you?"

Harry jerked awake when Fred pulled his pillow off his face. "Uh? What?" he groaned, still disoriented.

"Don't you know what day it is?" Fred asked, his voice an imitation of Percy the Prefect's stern drawl, though he was keeping the volume to a minimum—Neville, Dean and Seamus were still fast asleep.

Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up. Fred's face, with his red hair still tousled, was a bit blurry.

"Ginny's birthday," Harry mumbled.

"Exactly," said George, still bending over Ron. "Now you two get your lazy arses off those beds and follow me to the Great Hall."

Harry groaned once more and fell back on his pillows. "She's not even awake yet," he said, his voice muffled, for he had covered himself with his blanket.

Fred quickly grabbed the blanket from Harry. "You're getting up now, Potter, 'cause you're going to meet your _in-laws-to-be_ today."

Harry slowly opened his eyes again and was attempting to work out what Fred had just said when Ron exclaimed, "Mum and Dad are here?"

"Precisely, little brain. Now move it, they're waiting for us."

Harry sat up in a flash. _Mr. and Mrs. Weasley? In Hogwarts? Right now?_ He gaped at Fred and George, who had both gone to the full-length mirror near the door, trying to tame their hair. Harry suddenly felt sick. He wanted to sleep all day and not wake up until tomorrow.

Ron, meanwhile, was grabbing a school robe from the closet—classes had begun yesterday. "I can't believe it," he muttered distractedly.

"Me neither," George said. "But they wanted to see how Ginny's doing."

Harry really felt sick now.

"Your face looks green, Harry," noticed Fred, grinning shrewdly. "Green as a fresh pickled toad."

Harry tried to smile back, but he felt his facial muscles working hard for it. He recalled the feeling he was having right now—it was like anticipating a Quidditch match, or a Triwizard Task, in a few hours. No—it was worse. Had Dumbledore told them what the curse was? Did they know that Ginny was…no, he didn't want to think about _that_. Then he remembered the Howler. And by the look on Ron's face, he seemed to have remembered, too.

"C'mon, Harry," Ron said. "I, er, think they're okay with it."

The twins grinned at Ron. "Yeah, they are," said George in an assuring tone.

"Just watch out for Mum when she begins talking about…er, snogging at midnight," Fred said.

Neville suddenly grunted, then started snoring again.

Harry swallowed. "Er—you know we're not—I haven't—"

"Of course you haven't," said Fred cheerfully. "Or else you'd be going down to breakfast today without arm bones. Remember Lockhart? Now get up."

Harry, slightly shuddering, obediently got up from his four-poster. His knees wobbled like jelly as he made his way to the closet, but he barely noticed. He was much too preoccupied on imagining Mrs. Weasley's face when she finds him in a little while. He had a mental image of her eyes flaring, her build heaving, and her voice thundering in the Great Hall like one of her Howlers. And she was carrying a _whip_.

_Fred's right,_ he thought grimly, shaking his head. _What kind of a boyfriend am I? Or _am_ I a boyfriend already?_

Somehow, the thought made him shudder again—and even more so, when he imagined Fred and George telling their parents what Harry was to Ginny already. And he thought, again, _where do I stand now, really?_

Harry, Ron, Fred and George went down to the common room, just as Hermione and Ginny were coming down. Hermione clearly knew that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have arrived, and Ginny was evidently still oblivious—Ginny was still yawning, and Hermione looked nervous, not far from what Harry was feeling right then.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked. "I was having a good sleep."

_Good sleep?_ Harry suddenly realized with a great jolt that _he_ had a good sleep too—but there were…_no dreams_.

The queasiness in his stomach started to double. He raked his mind for something—any dream at all—but he couldn't remember. No, he knew there was none. Whenever he dreamed of his parents, when it came back to him the next day, he could see it—it wasn't a perfect picture, but the details were there. In fact, the last one featured his parents, Sirius, Remus and—his chest heaved in disgust—Peter Pettigrew, celebrating Easter.

But it was the night before last. Last night, there was no dream. And he still hadn't had a dream that featured his parents doing, or at least talking about, the counter-curse. _It's been a week,_ he thought. _Just one more week…_ Harry shook his head to clear his head of those nasty thoughts.

Ron had gone to Hermione's side and was whispering something, as far as Harry could tell, comforting, into her ear. Hermione bit her lip. And then, to Harry's great amazement, Ron smiled, took her face in his large hands and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

It wasn't as though it was an overdose of public display of affection, but seeing, for the first time ever, his two best friends do that made Harry duck his head and turn pinkish.

"Oh, _please_," said George, turning away as well, but grinning wickedly. "Not in pube-lic!"

Ginny snorted in laughter. Ron glared at them, turning scarlet; Hermione's cheeks looked twice as red as she looked away.

Fred cleared his throat. "As I was saying about snogging, Harry—"

"Sod _off_, Fred," muttered Ron through gritted teeth. Ginny was still overcome with giggles.

"Well, come along now," George urged them. "They're waiting."

"_Who_ are?" Ginny asked curiously.

"You'll see in a minute." George put a protective arm around her shoulders and winked at Harry. "Sorry, mate—I'll have her in a while, 'kay?"

Harry snorted. "No fair," he mumbled to himself, only half-joking, as the six of them squeezed out of the portrait hole. How in the world did she get to have _six brothers_? And with her parents mad at him—_wrong question,_ he thought, _how in the world did _I_ ever get to be Harry Potter?_ He sighed heavily, looking up as if willing God to answer him.

For Harry, every step down Gryffindor Tower to the Great Hall felt like his very last steps before his own execution. In no time, they were at the entrance of the Great Hall—and there they were, talking to Dumbledore. The three of them turned around to find four Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione going down to meet them.

Ginny gaped at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley seemed to have aged a bit since Harry saw him at The Burrow last summer, but his face showed that familiar welcoming smile upon seeing them. Mrs. Weasley, meanwhile, seemed to have lost a lot of weight, and there were dark rings under her eyes—but there still was that soothing motherly smile. And there was no whip.

"MUM! DAD!" Ginny squealed, running towards her parents and throwing her arms around her father's neck. Ron, Fred and George, all beaming gleefully, joined them afterwards. Mrs. Weasley hugged every son tightly, mumbling something incoherent, then embraced Ginny the longest.

Harry watched them, and for a fleeting instant, a familiar feeling of longing fluttered in his chest. This was a family reunion—minus Percy, Charlie and Bill, the three eldest brothers, of course. Nonetheless, this was what he had been longing for all his life—a family.

_They're dead,_ he told himself again. _Mum and Dad are dead._

"Harry?"

Harry snapped out of his thoughts. Ginny was calling him. Her face looked so ecstatic and alive—the first time she looked like that for more than a week now. For a while, he felt jealous. And he told himself firmly, _you have no right to be. Why don't you feel happy for her? This is what you want for Ginny, isn't it? For her to be with her family, aside from wanting her alive, is the reason why you're going through that counter-curse. You don't want another family broken, and especially not this one._

"Hey—you coming or what?"

Resigning himself for the worst, Harry went over. Mr. Weasley was staring at him with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

Ginny must have sensed Harry's nerves. She went over and took his hand, squeezing it slightly.

"Dad?" Ginny looked at her father. "Here he is."

Mr. Weasley nodded—then smiled. And his smile widened even more. There was no need for words, or nerves: Harry knew through the look in Mr. Weasley's eyes that everything was all right, and he was…_grateful_. So he knew. And he knew about Harry's plan.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley choked out. "I…thank you, Harry."

Harry smiled back. Then, to his surprise, Mr. Weasley enveloped him in a fatherly hug. Harry closed his eyes, feeling as though he was basking in the warmth of his own father's embrace—

"Harry?"

It was Mrs. Weasley. And just as soon as Mr. Weasley let go of him, Mrs. Weasley took him in her arms. A familiar feeling washed over him—this was how he felt back there in the hospital wing, right after the Third Task, just last year—comforted, completely comforted.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice shaking. "And I'm terribly sorry."

"It's all right, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "Please don't cry. Everything will be okay."

_Everything will be okay,_ he repeated to himself, closing his eyes again. _Everything will be okay._

When he opened his eyes, he saw Dumbledore smiling at them, his blue eyes twinkling.

"So, Dad," Ron was saying, "things are getting all too worked up in the Ministry—how did you find the time to come here?"

Mr. Weasley cheerfully helped himself for a second serving of bacon. "Oh, it's…well, connections," he said. He heaved his chest forward. "And being a Ministry official, I was given privilege."

Harry caught Ginny's gaze, who was sitting across him on the Gryffindor table. They both knew it was a lot more than that.

"But you already knew Ginny's okay, right?" George said. "You got our owl, didn't you?"

"Of course, dear," said Mrs. Weasley evenly, though barely looking up from her plate. "But it's Ginny's birthday and all."

"I got hit by an overactive Bludger on the head my second year and you didn't even come visit," said Fred, looking hurt. "I was in the hospital wing for a _week_."

Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes. "Bludgers are totally different from curses, Fred."

Beside Harry, Mr. Weasley knocked his goblet over, spilling pumpkin juice on the table. "Oh, _damn_—"

"Not in front of the table, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley quickly reprimanded.

"Yes, yes, dear," said Mr. Weasley, taking out his wand and pointing it to the mess. The juice instantly cleared.

Harry cleared his throat and changed the topic. "How is—er, how are the Hogsmeade residents doing, Mr. Weasley?"

Mr. Weasley set his goblet down, shaking his head. "We've evacuated them. Most are in farms scattered across Scotland. Others went to cities—Glasgow, Edinburgh, even as far down as London."

"But they're renovating the place?" Hermione asked. It was the first time she'd spoken ever since they came down from Gryffindor Tower.

"No chance of that in the near future yet," said Mr. Weasley. "And even if we can, wizards wouldn't want to settle in there yet, would they?"

The younger Weasleys all nodded gravely. Harry and Ginny caught gazes again.

"I had a talk with Adam Connolly," Mr. Weasley blurted out, still staring at his plate. "He and his wife…they find it hard to cope up with…with Mark…."

Harry began staring down his plate, too. So many losses already…so many families torn apart….

He felt a nudge on his shin. Ginny had kicked him slightly. She smiled at him, somewhat encouragingly.

"You don't have to worry, though," Mr. Weasley went on. "Everything's under control. And Hogwarts is perfectly safe—the safest place in the country—in all Europe, even. Dumbledore, he made sure of that. Great wizard, he is."

A few moments of silence lapsed before Ron asked quietly, "What about you? And—and Bill, and Charlie, and Percy?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled at him. "You don't have to worry about us, dear. We know we'll be safe. Now, how are you all doing with your O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s?"

Fred, George and Ron instantly groaned. Hermione lit up and enthusiastically told Mrs. Weasley of her progress on O.W.L. practice papers. Harry, however, had the impression that Mrs. Weasley had deliberately changed the topic.

"So, Harry," Mr. Weasley began in a low voice, "I hear you gave Ginny that ring."

Harry glanced at Ginny. The emerald ring glinted as her hand reached out for the plate of pancakes on the table.

"Yes," Harry said. The calmness of his voice surprised even himself, for he had put his suddenly clammy hands under the table and twisted his father's ring nervously.

Mr. Weasley grinned. "Dumbledore told me how she had unclasped your parents' wedding rings," he said. "I never realized her love for you runs deep."

Harry swallowed. His queasiness was staring to go back to him—not because of the curse, but because of…well, his present relation with Ginny, Mr. Weasley becoming aware of it, and the lecture that was sure to come. The one about snogging and _fornicating_—

"Mr. Weasley," he suddenly declared, "I love your daughter very much, too."

Ginny looked up at them, wide-eyed in shock. Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, Fred and George, and a few other Gryffindors who were already there, stared at them.

_Great. Just great._ Harry felt his face grow hot and his heart pick up a bit of speed. _Hang on there,_ something told him at the back of his head. _You're fifteen years and nine months old, Harry Potter, and you just sounded like you're asking for Ginny Weasley's hand from her dad already. What in the world were you thinking?_

_Shut your mouth, you great prat of a critic,_ Harry shot back mentally. _It was the _truth_! _

Then Mr. Weasley began to laugh. Harry didn't know what to make of it—did Mr. Weasley actually think he was not serious at all? Ginny was pretending to resume eating, but her forehead was red and Harry knew she was listening.

"You know I don't know what goes on in that young mind of yours, Harry," he said when he calmed down, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "But I trust your feelings just as I trust you with Ginny's life."

Harry felt his chest heave as he drew in breath.

"You know I'd love to have you as a son-in-law," Mr. Weasley said, cuffing him on the shoulder. Then he looked at him sternly. "But not until five years or so, okay? And until then, my Ginny's not going to be—you know—_devir_—"

"DA-AD!"

"YES!" Harry interrupted at the same time Ginny shrieked, as to not let Mr. Weasley finish the word. "I mean, yes, I know, Mr. Weasley."

Mr. Weasley was still smiling. "Good, then. You take care of her, all right?"

Harry nodded profusely. "I will. I promise," he added.

He glanced at a blushing Ginny across the table and smiled at her. Ginny didn't look back, but there was a smile playing on her lips.

_Whew._ Harry wanted to throw off his robes and wipe the beads of sweat that had broken out of his back throughout the conversation with Mr. Weasley.

It was a quite subdued party, really, but to Harry, it could have been the best for Ginny. There were no lights or music, but Fred and George had brought in a lot of food from the kitchens that almost everyone in Gryffindor Tower had a full stomach by nine in the evening.

Ron and Hermione were talking quietly in a corner, drinking from goblets. Ginny, meanwhile, was carrying a plate of cinnamon cupcakes and pumpkin pasties, offering them to everyone who seemed a bit out-of-place. While Fred and George had set off Filibuster Fireworks, she stopped to talk to some first and second years, and to give the third years a hug or two.

It was so characteristic of Ginny—unendingly caring, thinking about others more than herself. She had been like that in Hogsmeade, and whenever she tutored the Gryffindors from the lower years.

Harry watched her discreetly through the rim of his goblet as he drank pumpkin juice from it. She looked even more radiant tonight than this morning, when she met her parents.

Ginny caught his gaze. Smiling widely, she sauntered towards him, carrying the plate.

"Hey," Harry said. "Having fun?"

"Absolutely," said Ginny, offering him a cupcake. "This could well be the best day of my life."

Harry smiled, but he didn't fail to interpret Ginny's statement as…somewhat morbid. As if she wasn't going to last long.

Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Um, Ginny? I hope you don't mind me asking…"

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Ask what?"

"Well…did you—did you have any dreams last night?"

Ginny shook her head almost immediately. "No."

Harry cocked his head on one side, frowning slightly. "You don't sound the least bit anxious."

Ginny looked up at him, looking innocently thoughtful. Then she smiled, shrugged slightly and said, "Well, I trust God."

Harry watched her grin and wander off to where Fred and George were motioning her over. And he realized, as he set his goblet down a table, that it wasn't just the beautiful face of Ginny Weasley that caught him and made him notice her more this year: it was the simplicity of her being, the depth of her soul—her bravery, compassion, and unwavering faith—that captured his heart. He was suddenly overcome by love—so gentle, and yet so powerful, that it hurt.

"Oh, Fred, George!" Ginny cried, staring at something inside a box—the twins' gift. She reached in and pulled out a black-robed stuffed toy…with round glasses and black hair. It was about the size of her arms.

The Gryffindors, seeing the stuffed toy, burst out laughing. Harry felt himself turn deep red.

"That's not all it is!" said George, grinning wickedly. "Press his tummy, he'll say something."

Ginny, rolling her eyes, obliged. What the stuffed Harry sang as it moved its mouth, in an uncanny likeness with the real Harry's voice, made him blush even further.

_"My eyes are green as a fresh pickled toad, _

_My hair is dark as a blackboard. _

_She's already mine, for I'm truly divine, _

_I'm the hero who conquered the Dark Lord!"_

"You silly _git_!" Ginny shrieked, swatting George's arm. "I did _not_ write that valentine!"

"Come to think of it," said Fred, pausing between breaths, "we could get a copyright infringement for using that song without the composer's permission—"

"We don't have to," said George, winking at Harry. "Ginny's going to sleep with that every night anyway—_argh_!"

Ginny had grabbed George's arm and twisted it with all her might, causing another burst of laughter in the common room. Even Harry couldn't fight back a laugh. Small as Ginny may be, she still had incredible strength in her. He walked over to them, where Ginny was still wrestling George on the leather couch.

"Okay, break it up," Fred said, pulling Ginny and George apart. "Human Harry wants to say something."

Ginny abruptly stopped tearing George's hair and looked up at Harry. She promptly blushed.

"Er," said Harry, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I have a gift for you, too."

"Oooh, let's see it!" Fred jeered.

Harry came up with a small package, wrapped in glossy red paper, and handed it to Ginny. "Thanks," she whispered, still blushing fiercely.

She took off the small card attached to the gift and read it silently. Harry read his own words, in his own handwriting, upside-down as Ginny held the note, her hands slightly shaking.

_Dear Ginny,  
Believe in happy endings.  
Love, Harry _

"'_Love_, Harry?!'" quite a few people exclaimed. Harry hadn't noticed that Ginny was surrounded by onlookers.

Ginny rolled her eyes at them. "Please, can't I have a little privacy here?" She was redder than ever.

"'Believe in happy endings'," George read aloud. "What, are you Sleeping Beauty or something, Gin?"

"George, knock it off," Ginny snapped. However, save for Harry, no one else seemed to notice how Ginny suddenly felt tetchy at George's words.

No one else…except Hermione. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw her look at him and Ginny, her eyes narrowed in the way they usually did when she was trying to figure out something.

"What…what's this?" Ginny had opened the gift. "It looks like—"

"A wireless," Colin Creevey finished. "A Muggle one. Looks kind of battered, though—"

Harry looked exasperatedly at him. Colin wasn't exactly a tactful one.

"You know that wouldn't work over here," said Hermione, looking at the wireless doubtfully. "All the things Muggle use as a substitute for magic, such as electricity—"

"You've explained that one to many times already, Hermione," said Harry. "But no, that thing _does_ work. I've…enchanted it."

Fred, George, Ron and Ginny raised their eyebrows at him.

"I mean," Harry went on, feeling a bit pleased with himself, "that thing needs batteries to work, so I looked up a charm that can be used as a substitute for electricity. It wasn't so bad—I just twiddled a bit with the design and all, and it only needs three volts…then I also looked up a charm that's able to filter the Muggle signals in, and tune them to just the right frequencies so that you'll be able to play the thing. Go on, turn it on."

Ginny looked at the radio as if it was an alien spaceship that had fallen down the sky. Hermione, with a last dubious look at Harry, went over and pressed the "Play" button.

There was a sound of static. Hermione tweaked the tuning knob, and then—

_"…I know a place where we can dance the whole night away,  
Underneath the electric stars—" _

Ginny burst out laughing, grinning at Harry amazedly. Harry grinned back. He had Dudley owl the hand-sized radio to him—Dudley had broken it the previous summer. It only needed a few adjustments to work, though.

"I knew it," Ron said despairingly. "I _knew_ he's going to turn into a nutter like Dad."

"We don't need another one," groaned Fred.

"Don't be silly," said Ginny, standing up and taking Harry's hands in hers. "It's _music_! Let's dance!"

"Ginny!" Harry said suddenly. "I don't _know_ how to dance!"

"I know for one thing that Parvati taught you how, just last year," Ginny replied, grinning at Parvati, who stood at the back of the room, watching them with a small smile on her face. "Come on—it's not so hard." She did something that was halfway between cha-cha and quickstep.

"Actually, you're right, it _is_ music!" Fred had grabbed Angelina Johnson, who was laughing hard as well.

_"Feel the beat in the rhythm of the night—dance until the morning light,   
Forget about the worries on your mind—you can leave them all behind—" _

Harry could actually forget about his worries for that single moment, as he tried to copy Ginny's steps. Everyone around them had got up, too, and danced. Ginny was flushed with laughing. She looked radiant, and her brown eyes sparkled the way they usually did. She wrinkled her nose when Harry accidentally tripped on her feet, and her freckles stood out as she did.

She was beautiful.

It was only until Professor McGonagall arrived to break up the party that Harry and Ginny separated that night. But Harry had brought something in their dormitory, and indeed, even as he slept that night: the soft, warm feeling of Ginny's lips on his cheek, where she kissed him gently, and said, "Thank you, Harry," just before she broke away from his arms.

* * *

James, Lily and Sirius were walking at a familiar tree-lined street, with Sirius holding a baby in his arms. In the Muggle surroundings, no one would suspect that the four of them were…well, not normal by Muggle standards, for they just seemed to be a foursome paying a visit on a sunny April morning.

"Aww…look at him! He knows his godfather!"

Sirius held nine-month-old Harry at arm's length, grinning stupidly at him. Harry opened his mouth, then let out a soft chuckle and swiped at Sirius's arms with his small, pudgy hands.

"He has your eyes, Lily," said Sirius.

"So you've told her again and again," James replied, putting an arm around his wife. "You've never told me about how he looks like his father, though."

"You kidding?" Sirius looked at James in mock indignation. "Harry? Look like his Dad? No way—Harry's _cute_!"

"So what am I? _Not_ cute?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

James laughed and smacked Sirius on the shoulder.

"Careful there, James, or I might let go of your son."

"Just try that, and I'll—"

Sirius suddenly let go of Harry, causing the baby to drop by about a foot or two towards the ground—before Sirius caught him again. Harry giggled out loud, as if wanting Sirius to do it again. This time, Lily had reacted.

"SIRIUS, YOU GREAT GIT! WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU THINKING? DO YOU REALIZE THAT HARRY'S BONES ARE JUST ABOUT AS SOFT AS—"

James laughed again and pulled Lily closer. "Come on, Lil—you're just a bit nervous."

"I'm _not_!" Lily snapped. "I'm just—"

"Overanxious? Scared?" Sirius had begun cuddling Harry. "Lily, your parents haven't seen you for _ages_, and they haven't seen Harry yet! And they sounded thrilled in the letter, didn't they?"

From far off, there was a wailing sound—a Muggle siren, James thought, used for things called fire trucks and ambulances and police cars. He wondered for a moment where they came from, until Lily spoke up.

"Yes…but there's my sister and her husband."

James snorted. "Listen, dear—we can't help it if they hate the things we do. I mean, we do stuff for reasons they won't understand—they won't even understand that what we do is for everybody's good."

"No, actually, James," said Sirius, grinning impishly. "They hate _you_, not what you do."

"At least Lily's parents _like_ me," said James, thrusting his chest out. "You haven't exactly had a girl's parents like you, have you?"

"Shut up," said Sirius. He turned to Harry. "Repeat after me, Harry—your daddy's a git. Your—daddy's—a—git. Got that? G-I-T. Git."

"If you're going to be a bad influence to my son, Sirius, I might take your honorary title back."

Sirius looked aghast. "No way, Harry and I have bonded! See? Okay, Harry, you're as cute as your daddy. You're—as—cute—as—your—daddy. Got that?"

Lily chuckled softly.

As they continued to walk, James had a sinking feeling that the sirens were growing closer. Lily was quiet for the rest of the walk, while Sirius went on cooing at Harry. "When you grow up, I'm going to buy you a _broomstick_! That's right, Harry—you're going to fly like no other! You'll be the best flier England has ever seen—"

"Wait," Lily said all of a sudden. "Those…sirens…they—they're coming from the direction of our house."

Lily suddenly broke into a run towards a clearing. Reaching the spot where no trees blocked the view of the sky, Lily looked up—and James watched her face contort in unspeakable horror.

James ran towards his wife, and looked up as well.

The Dark Mark was hovering above a spot about four blocks away.

"Oh, _God_!" Sirius exclaimed. "Come on!"

James sprinted to the direction of Lily's house, Lily following close behind, and Sirius bringing up the rear. After what seemed like eternity, they reached the Evanses' house—and James's worst fear was confirmed.

The Dark Mark was right above the white-and-cream house, like an evil marker of the beautiful place.

Off the sidewalk, an ambulance had backed off with its sirens wailing. Lily vainly tried running after it, crying. "NO! MUM! DAD!"

"Miss! Hey—miss!" A policeman ran towards Lily and held her back. "Do you know the people who live here?"

Lily wasn't able to speak. She just stared at the retreating ambulance with glassy eyes.

James approached them. Around him, people were staring, shriveling with fear at the Dark Mark, with the shape of the skull and that hideous snake protruding out of its mouth. Policemen were questioning a few neighbors.

"What happened here, officer?" asked James, his voice shaking.

"Weird thing," said the policeman. "The couple who lives here—the Evanses, I think—well, their daughter arrived this morning with her husband, and they found the house trashed and all…with that—that green thing hanging above. Damn, I haven't seen anything like it."

"And…the Evanses?"

"Dead!" The policeman shook his head in disbelief. "But the thing is, we can't seem to find anything wrong with them! They're just _dead_!"

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw a couple of blue-cloaked figures approaching them.

"Potter—Black—we only got word of this very—"

"Excuse me!" the policeman snapped at them, "what do you think you're doing, taking over?"

James hadn't heard the members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad reverse the policeman's memories, as well as all the Muggles'. Lily had slumped to the ground. She had fainted, her face horribly pale and wet with tears and sweat. Harry had begun crying, and Sirius unsuccessfully tried shushing him up.

"Voldemort," whispered James, cradling Lily's head on his lap.

Sirius stared hard into James's eyes. "You think it was him who did this?"

"No." James's voice was shaking with anger now. "But it was his orders."

Sirius didn't say anything. He quietly rocked Harry back and forth.

"We'll be next," James went on. "And Harry."

"No," gasped Sirius. He held Harry closer to himself. "Not…_Harry_."

James simply shook his head, disgusted. "I won't let him come near my son. I promised him a wonderful life ahead of him."

Sirius could only stare back at his best friend. 


	12. Snape's Potion

**Family**

_Chapter Twelve  
Snape's Potion_

Harry got down for breakfast the next morning in a daze, with barely ten minutes left before his first class that day. His limbs felt strangely weak, and his headaches had returned in their full strength. 

Rubbing his temples, he looked around the Gryffindor table for Ginny. She was not there. _Maybe she's already preparing for class,_ he reasoned, and headed to where Ron and Hermione sat. 

"You okay?" Ron automatically asked him. 

"Guess so," Harry mumbled, sitting down beside Hermione and grabbing a piece of toast. "Must be all the dancing we did last night." 

_Must be the kiss,_ something in his head told him. Harry looked at Ron, as if he had heard what his head had been saying, but Ron was looking at Hermione fretfully. 

Hermione had her lips pursed as she stared at the ceiling. She looked as if she and Ron had been arguing before Harry arrived. 

"None of the owls carry the _Daily Prophet_ anymore," she said, her voice cracking. 

"Hermione," Ron half-groaned, "cut it out. Please." 

Harry looked at the two confusedly. "What's going on?" 

Before Ron could speak, Hermione squealed, "Can't you see? No _Daily Prophet_s arrive at Hogwarts anymore, ever since the Hogsmeade attack! Why do you think that happened?" 

Harry stared at her. He had never given it any thought before. Besides, since last year, he had lost all his confidence in the wizarding paper. 

"Because," Hermione went on, glaring at Harry, "it's either the offices have been burnt down, or Dumbledore's doing something to stop all the news from entering the school. How are we going to know what's happening outside, then?" 

"I'm sure he'd tell us if it's true and important," said Ron quietly. "You know the _Prophet_ carries a lot of rumors, Hermione, and Dumbledore doesn't want to start a panic among us after Hogsmeade—" 

Harry knew Hermione easily lost her temper, but it was very uncharacteristic of her indeed to slam her fists on the table. It made Harry's head ache even more. She promptly stood up. "I'll be preparing for class," she snapped, and stomped out of the Great Hall. 

Harry stared at Ron. "What's eating her?" 

Ron, who was gazing after Hermione, shook his head. "She was going on about her parents before you arrived," he muttered. 

Harry felt something cold slip in his stomach, suddenly remembering. His parents—and Sirius—and..._himself_—coming home to find his mother's parents— 

Harry shut his eyes as another wave of pain passed through his head. He shook his head firmly. _No, it can't happen to her,_ he thought. _Dumbledore would have told her. And she'd have told us. No—it can't happen to anybody's parents._

"C'mon, Harry," said Ron, standing up. He seemed so preoccupied with his thoughts on Hermione that he didn't notice Harry feeling weary and nervous. "We'd better go too, we'll be late." 

With his head still spinning, Harry followed Ron. 

By lunchtime, Harry decided to himself that he would just skip Potions and lie in his bed until he felt all right again. It wasn't so bad that he felt he should go to Madam Pomfrey—he had injured himself worse than this before—but he was still aching all over. It was a tired kind of ache—like it was costing him all the effort he had to move. 

Something, however, stopped him from skipping classes that day. 

"Hey—Harry!" It was Colin Creevey, panting after running towards him in the corridors. "Ginny wasn't in Potions today—know where she is?" 

Harry suddenly felt his blood run cold. 

"She wasn't...in class?" 

"No," Colin told him, knotting his forehead in what seemed like suspicion. "I thought you'd know where she was—" 

Harry looked around him nervously, then spoke to Colin in a softer voice. "Listen, are you sure about this?" 

"'Course I am," Colin replied, shrugging. "It was all my classmates were talking about—I mean, she just celebrated her birthday last night—" 

"Right," said Harry. "I'll...look for her in Gryffindor Tower or something. Thanks, Colin." 

"Anytime, Harry!" Colin called out as Harry sprinted away. 

Harry did not care how his legs ached with every step. The only thing that mattered then was Ginny. It had been a week and a half since Lucius Malfoy put that curse on her. And she was supposed to slip into a coma after two weeks or so...but what if they had taken the curse for granted? What if she was...in a coma now? 

Harry took the stairs two steps at a time, his knees threatening to give way. "Shazam!" he gasped to the Fat Lady. The portrait swung open, and Harry stepped in. He didn't even think twice as he did something that he knew Hermione would never forgive him for: he headed to the girls' staircase and looked for the door with the sign, "Fourth-Years." 

"Second...third..._there_!" he breathed. He didn't even knock—he turned the knob and, seeing that the door was unlocked, opened the door. 

Ginny, still in her nightdress, was sitting on an armchair beside the window. She didn't seem surprised at all that Harry had entered a _girls'_ dormitory. She had not slipped into a coma, that much was true, but what Harry saw instead made his very heart ache. Ginny's hair was in disarray, her face was terribly pale, and her eyes were bloodshot. 

"Ginny?" Harry said cautiously as he approached her. 

Ginny looked at him. Her eyes, last night brilliant and blissful, were now blank and tired. 

"I don't want to go to sleep again," she whispered, her voice filled with grief. 

Harry bit his lip, understanding. "I'm sorry." 

"I'm sorry about your grandparents." 

Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry you had to feel what it's like to lose your parents." 

Ginny let out a choked sob. Harry drew near where she sat, and not knowing what else to do, gathered her in his arms. He felt her shake as she sobbed bitterly into his robes. He stroked her soft hair, absently twirling a few strands in his fingers. 

"You know," Ginny said, her voice muffled, "it was a horrible feeling—like my heart was being torn to pieces—and everything around me was spinning—and then, I blacked out, and I woke up...oh, Harry, your mum." She looked up at him, sniffling. "Your mum suffered a lot. I felt it. I felt what she felt, Harry." 

Harry looked away guiltily. He didn't want to tell her that what actually made him feel worse this morning was his unnaturally aching body, and not the dream. He wouldn't have even recalled the dream if it weren't for Ron. Oh, why was Ginny the one to suffer? Wasn't she suffering enough already? 

Harry's gaze fell on the windowsill, where the Muggle wireless he had given her the night before was perched. He suddenly became aware of a sad song playing. 

"I'm really sorry," Harry mumbled. "If only I could take the dreams from you—but you know I can't—" 

"I know, I know." Ginny tried to smile, but failed to do so. "I'll be all right, Harry." 

Harry took a deep breath. "Is there...something I can do?" 

"Just this," Ginny whispered. "Just...just hold me like this." 

"All...all right." 

Harry sat down on the arm of the armchair and let Ginny's head fall on his waist. For a long, quiet moment, Harry held Ginny there, with an arm around her shoulders. The sad music came to an end, and a slow song began, something that Harry was vaguely familiar of. 

_"No more talk of darkness;  
Forget these wide-eyed fears.  
I'm here, nothing can harm you—  
My words will warm and calm you.  
Let me be your freedom,  
Let daylight dry your tears.  
I'm here, with you, beside you,  
To guard you and to guide you..."_

Harry felt, more than heard, Ginny sigh and snuggle closer to him. Harry leaned back, forgetting his physical pains, basking in Ginny's heartening presence...it was somewhat like they were giving comfort to each other. 

"You okay now?" Harry whispered after a long while. 

"Sort of. Don't you have a class?" 

Harry glanced at his wristwatch. "In about fifteen minutes. Why?" 

"Have you eaten lunch?" 

"Uh...no. I don't plan on going to classes." 

Ginny looked up at him, her face filled with concern. "Something wrong?" 

Harry knew Ginny thought he was a bad liar, so he kept his face passive. "No, I—I just wanted to stay here with you." And almost immediately as he said it, he thought, _Oops._

"Don't," Ginny said, sitting upright. "Go to classes. I'll be fine." 

"Ginny—" 

"Harry—please. Don't—don't cut classes for me." 

Harry's heart plummeted to his stomach. He felt miserable and guilty all of a sudden. He initially wanted to cut classes because he was tired, not because he wanted to comfort her, didn't he? 

Ginny was still looking at him weakly, but sternly, not unlike one of Professor McGonagall's expressions. 

"At least go to Madam Pomfrey, then." 

Ginny shook her head firmly. "No. They'll be fussing over me. Remember—I don't want anyone else to know." 

Harry pursed his lips. He was torn, torn between wanting to make sure Ginny was all right and wanting to grant her wish. It was such a difficult choice that Harry felt his chest heaving just by thinking about it. Finally, with a huge sigh, he nodded. "All right, Ginny." 

Harry looked around him. And it struck him for the first time since he came—this was a _girl's dormitory_. And he was _alone_ with Ginny. 

Harry swallowed. He stood up. "Right. I'd better go." 

Ginny apparently noticed Harry's sudden queasiness. She smiled. "Don't worry. I wasn't going to—you know, jump on you or anything." 

Harry managed a weak laugh as he adjusted his glasses to hide his tense expression. "Of course not." He was more worried about _him_ jumping on _her_, actually, if he wouldn't be able to control himself. 

"I'll ask Ron if you went to classes or not," said Ginny. 

Harry feigned another smile. Ginny wasn't going to let him off that easily. And he wouldn't want her to think that something was wrong with him—although he felt there really was. 

Hermione was still in that peculiar mood during Potions. Of course she made her potion flawlessly—she always did—but she was a lot more subdued and preoccupied. She partnered Ron, and he was trying to talk to her, but Harry could only see her shaking her head stubbornly. 

"Harry, the knife," muttered Dean Thomas, who was partnering Harry. 

"Er—what? Oh, sorry," said Harry, when he saw that his cutting knife was dangerously perched on the edge of the table. 

"What's the matter with you today?" 

Harry shook his head. "Beats me." 

Dean snorted as he carefully put cut pieces of dragon liver into his cauldron. "And something's wrong with those two, too," he said, pointing his thumb at Ron and Hermione, who were working in front of them. 

"I know," Harry said quietly, stretching his arms discreetly. Potions was boring the heck out of him, and his body was still aching. He should have gone to their dormitory instead—Ron wouldn't have noticed otherwise, for he had Hermione to worry about. 

"Hey—do you still have some diluted Bubotuber pus? Mine's not enough." 

Harry rummaged through his potions kit and pulled out a vial of some murky brown liquid. "Here." 

Dean looked at the bottle suspiciously, then at Harry, who was working on his dragon liver. Dean shrugged, measured a quarter of a pint, and put it in this cauldron. 

All too suddenly, orange smoke came bursting out of Dean's cauldron. Harry immediately got a whiff of what reeked like rotten meat. The whole class turned to look, then pinched their noses in disgust. 

"Uh-oh," Harry muttered, even as Snape came swooping on their table and picked up the vial of diluted Bubotuber pus. Snape narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized its contents. 

"Rafflesia extract," Snape said in an oily manner as he set the vial down. "Don't you know the difference between rafflesia extract and Bubotuber pus, Thomas?" 

"I gave it to him," Harry said at once as Dean opened his mouth to speak. "It wasn't his fault." 

Snape sneered down at Harry. "I should have known. Thirty points from Gryffindor, Potter. And a further twenty for believing everything famous Harry Potter says, Thomas." 

Malfoy and the Slytherins stifled their laughter behind Snape. _Fifty points._ Harry swore under his breath. "Sorry, Dean," he whispered as Snape turned away. "I don't know what's up with me." 

Dean sighed, then nodded. "No problem," he said, waving a hand over his cauldron to get rid of the nauseating smell. "At least it didn't burn a hole in my cauldron." 

Potions dragged on for another half hour until the bell rang. Harry, sighing in relief, helped Dean clean up their mess. 

"Potter, stay after class," Snape suddenly muttered behind them. 

Harry's jaw dropped. "What—I'm getting detention?" 

Snape pointedly ignored him as he swept across the room, inspecting their tables for any messes that were left. Harry stared at Dean. Dean shrugged. 

"What does he want now?" asked Ron. 

"Dunno," said Harry, looking at Hermione. She was eyeing him suspiciously. "I don't get it—he didn't say anything about a detention—" 

"Thomas! Granger! Weasley! Get out of here!" Snape barked at them. Dean, Hermione and Ron quickly picked up their things. 

"He's going to suck your blood," Ron whispered to Harry. 

"Thanks for the encouragement," Harry said wryly. 

Grinning, Ron clapped Harry on the back and headed out of the dungeons after Hermione. 

Snape closed the door and locked it—double-locked it, even. Then Snape cast a Silencing Charm on the room. 

Harry found himself swallowing. Maybe Ron was right—maybe Snape _was_ a blood-sucking vampire. 

Snape, meanwhile, was running a hand through his greasy hair and searching his counter for something. Harry strained to see what Snape could be looking for. 

Finally, Snape came up with a small bottle of clear golden liquid. His next words caught Harry off-guard: "Ginny Weasley was absent in my class this morning. Have you seen her?" 

It took Harry a while for Snape's words to sink in. "Er—y-yes," he stuttered. Snape was eyeing him closely. It was hard to read what was in his mind. "She wasn't...feeling well." 

"Has she gone to Madam Pomfrey?" Snape pressed on quietly. 

"No—she didn't want to." Harry's mind was racing. He had to think of a good lie. Ginny didn't want anyone else to know. 

But didn't _Snape_ know? 

"Very well," Snape said. He handed Harry the bottle. "This is to dampen the physical pains she might experience. One drop in her evening pumpkin juice will be enough. And as bad as you are in Potions, give her the right dose, for pity's sake." 

Harry raised his eyebrows. 

"Well?" Snape raised his voice and shook the bottle in front of Harry's eyes. "Are you going to take it or not?" 

Harry took the bottle. On the pretense of glaring, Harry tried to search Snape's face—but nothing had changed. His eyes were still cold and black, his mouth stretched into that grim thin line. And although Snape was aware of Ginny's condition—Harry was sure of it now—Snape didn't seem to show any emotion for it. But something in what he had said made Harry think about believing in him—just this once. 

Harry nodded resolutely. "Thank you." 

For a nanosecond, Snape seemed to look surprised at hearing a thank-you from Harry. It quickly faded, however. 

_"Finite Incantatem!"_ said Snape, removing the Silencing Charm from the room. "You may go." 

Harry picked up his bag and potions kit and quickly scooted out of the dungeons. 

Asides from Snape's potion, which Harry had given Ginny at dinnertime, and Hermione's odd behavior all day, Harry had another thing to worry about. He sought the answer that night at midnight. 

"Snuffles." 

Harry found the great black dog in the corridors. Harry opened his Invisibility Cloak a bit so that Snuffles could see his face. Snuffles jumped up in surprise; then, seeing Harry and noting the Cloak, looked up at him questioningly with his chocolate brown eyes. Harry scratched Snuffles behind the ears and motioned for him to follow him into the empty Transfiguration classroom. 

Closing the door, Harry turned to the dog. "Why were you hanging around the corridors?" 

Sirius immediately transformed back into his human form. Moonlight poured into the room, highlighting his tired red eyes and the stubble on his face. "Nothing," he said, brushing his black shirt. "Well, keeping watch, I guess. And speaking of keeping watch, have I ever told you that I think Lucius Malfoy's son is a git?" 

Harry grinned widely. "Not yet." 

Sirius shrugged. "I'm telling you now. So." Sirius peered into Harry's face in a very godfatherly way. "What's keeping you skirting around corridors on a night like this?" 

Harry took a deep breath. "I wanted to ask you something about my parents. Actually, about Mum's parents." 

Sirius frowned, apparently startled at the question. "Lily's parents?" 

Harry nodded. "They...they died in a Death Eater attack, didn't they?" 

Sirius stared at Harry for a long time. Then he turned his back on him and walked to the other side of the room, his hand curled under his chin, apparently remembering that day. Harry waited patiently. 

"Yes," said Sirius softly, his back still on Harry. "A band of Death Eaters came into the Evanses' house, knowing that James, Lily and I were going there that day. But they were too early." Harry saw Sirius shake his head. It was as though he still could not believe that the incident had occurred, although it had been more than fifteen years since it happened. "Seeing that we weren't there, they found no other alternative but to kill them." 

Harry winced and shook his head in disgust. He himself had trouble believing in it. 

"It had been a lost cause for them, really," Sirius went on. "They could have just modified their memories or something, but no—they're Death Eaters, and killing and torturing Muggles is what they're all about." 

"So they...they just killed them for no reason at all?" 

Sirius turned around and smiled grimly. "That was your father's theory, at least." 

Harry tried to speak, but he seemed to have lost his voice. He found himself leaning against the wall, for his head started to spin wildly. He momentarily put a hand on his forehead. 

"You all right?" asked Sirius. 

Harry waited for the pain to subside before opening his eyes. "Do you have any idea how many times I've been asked that today?" 

Sirius cocked his head. "You do seem a bit pale," he said. "What's the matter?" 

"Nothing, Sirius. Really." Harry squinted up at him. "There's something else, though..." 

"Fire away." 

"The attack. When did it happen?" 

Sirius frowned once more. Then comprehension dawned on his face. "You dreamed about it, didn't you?" 

"Yeah...Ginny did, too. All I know is that it was around spring or summer, and I was a baby." 

"Of course." Sirius began pacing back and forth across the room. "The attack happened in April, and you were about...eight months old. Harry—what was the dream you had before that one?" 

"It was...it was Easter," said Harry. 

"Easter of _that_ year?" 

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I...I don't...remember seeing myself in that dream, though—" 

"So—the last dream happened a _year_ before this one?" 

"I guess so." Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't get it, Sirius—when Ginny and I dreamed of my parents before, one dream seemed to have happened a few weeks before the next one. Why did this one happen one _year_ after the last?" 

Sirius was staring at the ring on Harry's finger. "Maybe the rings simply pick scenes from James and Lily's life randomly," he said. "I don't know. I don't get it, either." 

Harry felt his heart plummet to his stomach. "Randomly? Sirius, that lessens our chances of finding out the counter-curse!" 

"Randomly—but _chronologically_, right?" 

Harry stared at his godfather. "Er—yes. Yeah, they seem to happen chronologically." 

Sirius nodded. He stared out the window into the night. "April nineteen eighty-one. At that time, James and Lily were already working on the counter-curse. There's still a chance, Harry." 

"I just hope we won't jump one year ahead again," Harry muttered dryly. 

Sirius let out a grim laugh. "Harry, your parents were already gone on November of that year." 

Harry's head shot up. But of course—how could he have forgotten? 

"_I_ just hope," Sirius said, "that you and Ginny will be able to dream of what the counter-curse is all about before Saturday. Do you know where Ginny was hit?" 

"The chest," croaked Harry. "The worst part to be hit, too." 

Sirius clucked his tongue. "Saturday," he repeated. "You should be able to find an answer by Saturday. You just let those dreams keep on coming, all right?" 

"But Sirius," Harry began, suddenly remembering, "the other night, Ginny and I weren't able to dream about my parents." 

"And...it's never happened before?" 

"No." 

"And then you dreamed about the attack on the Evanses last night?" 

"Yeah..." 

"Wow." Sirius shook his head in disbelief again. He glanced at the ring and chuckled wryly. "If your parents were really the ones who made those rings act the way they do now, then I've found the reason why the rings act strangely." Sirius smiled at Harry. "James did just about everything that way." 

Harry began to smile as well. "Really?" 

"Yeah." 

A clock chimed somewhere. "One o'clock," said Sirius. "You'd better go back to your dormitory." 

Harry snorted. "Yeah, right—as if you and Dad didn't hang out this late when you were here." 

"Unfortunately for you, _I_ happen to be your godfather," said Sirius. "Listen—I'll talk to Dumbledore about this conversation. He's in his office right now, but he's _very_ busy, I can tell you. Now go to bed and _dream_." 

"All right." Harry took his Invisibility Cloak and draped it over his back. 

"And, Harry—I hope your dreams will be a lot better this time." 

Harry smiled. "I hope so, too." 

Sirius ruffled Harry's hair, then transformed into a dog. Harry opened the door for him. He hugged Snuffles tightly by the neck, pulled the Cloak over his head, and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. 

_**Jenna's Notes:** One of my happiest moments in the fandom is being put in the Professors' Bookshelf here in SQ. How cool is that? *grin* Thanks to everyone who have reviewed, and to Lisa for the beta. The song "All I Ask Of You" is from the musical _Phantom of the Opera_. As you can see by now, I love putting song lyrics all over this fic._


	13. Saturday

**Family**  
  
_Chapter Thirteen  
Saturday_

Harry was getting edgier and edgier as Saturday approached. Of course, there was a possibility that Ginny was tougher than she looked—and she was, indeed—plus she was doing a good job of preventing the curse from overcoming her completely. But Harry did not want to take any chances.

From the other side of the study table in the common room on Friday evening, Harry saw Ginny close her books. She smiled at the four second-years who were sitting around her. Well," she said, yawning, "that's it for tonight, I guess."

Harry glanced at Ron's wristwatch. It was only nine-thirty in the evening.

Ginny drank deeply from the goblet beside her. Harry had given her the bottle of that potion Snape had given him yesterday. It seemed to be working somehow. But that didn't stop her from retiring so early at night.

"Do you think if we sleep more often, we'd have dreams more often too?" Ginny had asked him yesterday.

Harry had shrugged. "I don't know. It seems as if the dreams only come when they want to."

And it was true, much to Harry's dismay. They had not been able to dream of his parents in the past two nights.

_They'd__ better appear in our dreams tonight,_ he thought, unconsciously gripping his quill a little tighter than necessary. _They'd__ better…_

"Hermione, can I borrow that goblin list?" Ron asked, pointing to a piece of paper in the middle of the table.

Distracted, Hermione impatiently shoved it in front of Ron.

Ron took a glance at it, then looked back at Hermione irritably. "What _is_ up with you these days?"

"Nothing!" Hermione declared, obviously feigning indignation.

"Nothing? Hermione, you've been moping around all week. You _have_ to tell me what it is."

Hermione looked at him exasperatedly. "Ron, nothing's wrong. Okay?"

"I don't believe you."

"Then don't," she snapped, and buried her nose in one of her books.

Ron gaped at Harry. Harry shrugged, not understanding it either.

At that moment, Harry felt a light tap on his shoulder. Ginny stood behind him with an armload of books. "Just wanted to say goodnight," she murmured sheepishly.

Harry smiled back in spite of himself. "Sweet dreams, Ginny."

"Yeah…you too."

Something fluttered inside Harry's chest as he gazed at Ginny. He wanted to hug her tight and assure her everything would be fine, that they'd find out the counter-curse tonight—but he had to keep himself from doing so. He didn't want to make Ginny think that he wasn't confident... because in truth, he wasn't. He believed with all his heart that his parents had invented the counter-curse, but something in him told him that they would not know what the counter-curse was _tonight_. He didn't understand why.

He pushed those thoughts away and contented himself by squeezing Ginny's arm. "We'll find out," he mouthed, although he could have been encouraging himself instead.

Ginny didn't seem to sense his uneasiness. Instead, she flashed him a drowsy smile, and left the common room.

She seemed so confident that Harry felt embarrassed at himself. He watched her ascend the stairs slowly, staggering under the weight of her books, and disappear.

"Ginny left something," said Hermione. Harry wrenched his eyes from the girls' staircase and forced them to look at Hermione.

She was pointing to a small bottle perched on the spot where Ginny had been tutoring the second-years.

Harry stood up. "Oh yeah," he muttered in the most nonchalant voice he could muster.

Hermione was faster than he was, though. She reached out and picked up the bottle, scrutinizing its contents with a wrinkled nose. "I wonder what this is." She looked at Harry—not questioningly, but pointedly. "Do _you_ know?"

At that very moment, Harry suddenly got the gut feeling that Hermione knew what was happening.

"No," he asserted, forcing himself to look innocent. "Give me that, I'll give it to her in the morning."

"Why can't _I_ drop by her room and give it to her myself?" Hermione asked in an irritating knowing tone. "Unless it's something _really_ important."

"Go ahead, then," Harry retorted, sitting back down. "It's not important."

"How do _you_ know?"

Harry glared at her. "Drop it, Hermione," he said through gritted teeth.

Ron was looking back and forth at Harry and Hermione. "What _is_ wrong with you two?"

"Nothing!" Harry and Hermione snapped at him in unison.

Ron slammed his book shut. "Bloody hell," he spat bitterly. "Thanks a lot for letting me in on your private secrets."

"Ron—" Hermione started to say.

Ron looked up at her, a pained expression clear in his eyes. "Drop it. Just like Harry said."

Harry bit his lip.

Hermione was blinking back tears. "I planned on telling you. I really did. I just wanted to make sure first." She looked up at Harry.

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. He snatched up the bottle of potion and gathered his books. "See you in the morning," he said curtly.

"Hey!" Hermione started to protest, but Harry was already on the boys' staircase, climbing it two steps at a time. When he reached their dormitory, he slammed the door shut and leaned back against it, taking deep, calming breaths.

_How did she know? _he asked himself. But then again, he should have known better. Hermione wasn't the best student in their year for no reason.

He wiped the sweat that had settled on his brow and sat down on his bed. He was going to make Ron think that he was asleep. He'd deal with him and Hermione tomorrow. Meanwhile, he had other things to worry about.

* * *

_Hogwarts has changed,_ James thought grimly as he looked around the entrance hall. A group of Ravenclaw students was hurrying into the corridor leading to what James remembered as the Transfiguration classroom. Their faces, he saw, didn't look like the ones he grew to seeing during his Hogwarts days. There was a sad, almost haunted look in them.

They reminded him of why he was there in the first place.

James sighed as he went on to Dumbledore's office. It had been a long night, and Dumbledore had asked him to come right after he, Sirius, Remus and Peter had dealt with..._with_....

James shook his head. He still couldn't get the scene out of his mind. Thank goodness Lily, who had been taking care of Harry, did not come with him. All those Muggles dead, their mangled bodies strewn on the street....

The Death Eaters were as ruthless as ever.

_Death Eaters._ The very name made James sick to the stomach.

Jamming his hands into his robe pockets, James rounded a corner, thinking that Dumbledore would have wanted him to tell him what he thought of the Death Eaters' attack strategy—or maybe who he thought the attackers were.

Oh, hell, he had an idea, all right—and it made him feel even sicker just by thinking about it.

James had reached the stone gargoyle that led to the Headmaster's office when he heard heavy footsteps coming his way. It sounded suspicious enough, even inside Hogwarts. Almost automatically, James reached into his pocket and gripped his wand.

He turned around—and knew immediately why he felt guarded.

_"Snape."_

James eyed his old school rival with the utmost loathing. As usual, Severus Snape had his long greasy hair down, and he was wearing all black. His face mirrored how James felt at that moment.

"Potter. Fancy seeing you here."

"Fancy seeing _you_ here, after what you and your pals did in Nottingham," James retorted.

James could have sworn he saw a muscle twitch beside Snape's right eye.

"Prove I was there, then," Snape challenged.

James glared at him. "What are you doing here?"

"None of your damned business."

"So I expect it's Death Eater business."

Snape's face contorted even more in fury, if it was possible. He took a step closer to James, his eyes glittering in a sinister way James had never forgotten. "If you only knew what I'm doing here," he said menacingly, "you'd go home to your family, thanking me, even wanting to kiss my feet. So get out of my way."

"I'll never kiss a Death Eater's feet," James spat.

Snape swore loudly. He tried to shove James away. "Get out of my way, Potter," he said again, this time with more passion.

"_You_ get the hell out—"

James broke off when Snape suddenly clutched his arm, his eyes bulging. All of a sudden, any trace of anger on his face was gone, and it was replaced by an alarmed, almost terrified expression. James felt his grip on his wand loosen as he looked at Snape, perplexed.

James and Snape stared at each other. Then, without any warning, Snape turned around ran off with such speed that James almost thought he would fly.

James felt the white-hot fury coming back to him. He gritted his teeth. Now he knew for sure. Snape had felt his master calling him.

_Death Eater_, he thought grimly.

* * *

Harry slowly opened his eyes. For a while, he wondered why he was feeling weak all over, as if he had spent a lot of energy on emotion during the course of the night.

Then he remembered the dream.

Snape was there. Now that Harry thought about it, and remembered what Snape might have done after the Triwizard Tournament last year, Snape might have been already a spy for Dumbledore at the time the dream actually took place.

Well, now _that_ cleared things up. Harry was beginning to close his eyes, eager to fall back to sleep, when he heard someone stirring inside the room.

"Up early on a Saturday, aren't we?"

"What time is it?"

"Seven-oh-five."

It took a while for Harry to realize that is was morning.

_Saturday morning._

Harry bolted upright—when suddenly, a surge of white-hot pain hit his chest. Harry clutched the front of his shirt, driving his fists into his chest as though it would ease the pain, gritting his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut—he had never felt pain like this since Voldemort used the Cruciatus curse on him a year ago. He curled up into a ball, whimpering, feeling that his chest was about to burst open—

And then it stopped, just as abruptly as it had come.

Harry opened his eyes, blinking, just as someone shoved the curtains of his four-poster aside. "Harry—you okay?" Seamus asked, his eyes wide.

"I...I guess so," he gasped, sitting up and rubbing his chest. Tingles of the pain were left, and his heart was pounding against his ribs.

Ron had come up behind Seamus. "Why? What happened?"

Harry looked at Ron. Images of the night before began to swim in front of him. But instead of wanting to clear things up with him and Hermione, Ron's bewildered expression reminded Harry instead of his best friend's sister....

"Nothing—it's not important." Harry quickly got out of bed and grabbed his glasses. "I'll be downstairs—be right back—"

Harry almost jumped the staircase to get to the common room in the least possible time. He didn't know what to expect—he wanted to see Ginny there, make sure she was awake, but morbid images filled his head instead. He mentally cursed himself.

The common room was empty. Harry swallowed—until he saw a small figure in a floral bathrobe descending the girls' staircase.

Harry let out a huge sigh of relief. "Ginny."

"Harry." Ginny took her steps slowly. From the bottom of the stairs, Harry saw her smile at him—not in the drowsy, confident way she had smiled the night before, but in a nervous manner that made his stomach churn. Her bottom lip trembled, and she was twisting his mother's wedding band on her finger.

He had never seen her nervous, like this...not since her first year, when she came to him, wanting to tell him something that turned out to be the truth in Tom Riddle's diary...and how it had possessed her to set that basilisk to the Muggle-born students of the school.... It had been the worst day of his life, he remembered.

"Are you okay?" asked Harry now.

Ginny nodded, a bit too quickly. "Yes. I'm okay."

"You sure? There were no...nothing unusual?"

Ginny shook her head. "I know it's weird, but...I feel perfectly normal."

Harry didn't know if he should be glad about the news or not. Over the years, he had learned that what seemed normal, or at least safe, could also be very deceiving.

Harry didn't speak his mind, though. "All right. Um, good."

"I got an urgent owl," Ginny told him, "from Professor Dumbledore. He says he wants to see me immediately."

"Oh." Harry swallowed. If Professor Dumbledore had sent for Ginny, wanting to see her immediately, it only meant he was anticipating something. "I'll go with you. Why don't you go change?"

Ginny still managed to smile, to Harry's surprise. "Speak for yourself, Harry—you're still in your pajamas."

"Oh. Right." Harry grinned back, feeling his facial muscles trembling as he did so. "Uh, I'll meet you down here."

"Okay," Ginny said. Harry took her right hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, which Ginny returned before she headed up the stairs again.

Harry turned around and started to go back to his dormitory, when he heard Ginny's voice again—this time cheerful. "'Morning, Hermione."

Harry froze in his tracks and looked back at the girls' staircase.

Hermione was peering into Ginny's face. "Hi, Ginny. Are you feeling all right?"

Ginny gave her a quizzical look. "Yes," she said slowly. "Why?"

Hermione stared at her for a while, then shrugged. "Nothing, really." She looked around—and saw Harry looking up at both girls.

"Well," said Ginny, looking in Harry's direction as well, "see you at breakfast, then."

Hermione nodded distractedly. Ginny shot Harry a questioning glance before she disappeared from his sight completely.

"Er—I'll be seeing you at breakfast too," he mumbled.

Hermione wasn't one to be escaped from today, it seemed to Harry. "Wait—hang on," she said, running downstairs. "Harry, we need to talk."

Harry feigned nonchalance. "About what?"

"About Ginny, who else?"

"Why? What about her?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes into slits. "Don't lie to me, Harry. I knew it last night. You and Ginny are hiding something from me and Ron."

Harry searched his mind for an excuse—any excuse—to make. He wanted to tell Hermione. Maybe she could help Ginny somehow. Come to think of it, he wanted to tell Ron, too. _Ron._ Ron must know.

But Ginny didn't want to tell anyone, and that was what mattered to Harry.

Harry had lingered too long. Hermione was still looking up at him, but Harry saw that tears were already forming in her eyes.

"So it's true, isn't it? It wasn't a minor curse."

"How did you know?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

Hermione's chin trembled as she spoke. "That day. When I saw you in the library, trying to look up the curse that Lucius Malfoy put on Ginny. You were so immersed in it. And knowing you, I thought it might be something serious, after all. So I looked it up, too."

A tear had slipped on Hermione's cheek. "It...it was difficult to look for, you know," she went on, "'cause I don't even know what I was looking for. Then you gave that gift to Ginny on her birthday—and you said, 'there are happy endings' or something like that. And I got all the more suspicious. I looked and looked...then this curse just sprang from a page from some modern history book. _The Cunctantis Curse._ Harry—that's it, isn't it?"

Harry thought he shouldn't have taken Hermione's intelligence and inquisitiveness for granted, especially when somebody close to her was concerned. His throat was dry when he spoke. "Yes, Hermione."  
  
There wasn't the slightest change in the expression on his friend's face—save for the tears that began to flow down in torrents. "Why didn't you tell us?" she whispered.

"Ginny doesn't want _anyone_ to know," Harry said desperately. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley both know, and so do Sirius and Dumbledore. I think even Snape knows, but Ginny doesn't know he does. But she doesn't want anyone else to know there's something going on with her. _Especially her brothers._ Hermione, _please_," Harry begged, grabbing her shoulders and looking at her in the eyes. "Don't tell Ron."

"Ron has the right to know, Harry," Hermione whimpered.

"I know," said Harry. "Look, don't cry. It isn't over yet, you know. It seems as if there's a counter-curse—"

"There's none, I checked—"

"No, you don't understand." He held up his right hand, showing her his father's ring. "This is my dad's wedding ring. Ginny has my mum's. For some reason, we're both having dreams about them—long before the attacks happened. Then Sirius told me that my parents were working on the counter-curse for the Cunctantis Curse."

Hermione's eyes began to widen. "So...so you've both _dreamed_ of the counter-curse?"

"Not yet," said Harry. "But we're waiting."

"But Harry, it's already Saturday," Hermione said, wiping her cheeks with her palms. "Two weeks have passed since the Hogsmeade attack."

Harry sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know. But we're not losing hope."

"No, we _can't_ lose hope," Hermione whispered. "We can't lose Ginny—she's my friend—and we can't afford Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to lose—"

"I know, I know," Harry interrupted heavily. It was Ginny's family that worried him the most, and he had been trying to rid his mind of gloomy thoughts about them for days now. "Please, don't start."

Hermione bit her lip, as though preventing herself from crying again. "Sorry."

Harry nodded. "Listen, we'll be meeting Dumbledore in a while. I'd better go."

"Okay," whispered Hermione. Then, to Harry's surprise, she threw her arms around him. "Good luck."

Harry closed his eyes and let Hermione pat him gently on the back. "Thanks. We need that," he said softly.

And yet, despite her offering of comfort, Harry's heart felt heavier than ever.

**_Jenna's Notes:_**_ Thanks, Lisa, for the beta; my readers and reviewers for the patience; and the visitors to my site.__ Love you all to bits!  
  
_


	14. The Fidelius Charm

**Family**

_ Chapter Fourteen  
The Fidelius Charm_

Harry walked a few steps behind Ginny, who kept her head bowed as they walked down the stairs from Gryffindor Tower a while later. She traced her steps painstakingly slowly, it seemed to Harry, as though she was too weak to move.

He wanted to say something—_anything_—to perhaps comfort her. He didn't know what she was feeling physically—he sincerely hoped it wasn't bad—but what she was feeling in her heart was probably worse.

Heck, of course it was worse. How must it feel to be anticipating _dea_—

Harry shook his head, not letting it finish the word. How could he even think that?

"Harry?" Ginny suddenly said.

"Hmm?"

Ginny didn't look up as she spoke. "What did you—what did you dream about last night?"

"Oh." Harry buried his hands in his pockets uneasily. "I...well, I dreamed about Dad and Snape."

Ginny whirled around in surprise. "Snape?"

Harry nodded. "They met...right outside Dumbledore's office. Where we're going," he added. "Coincidence, huh?"

"I didn't know your dad and Snape were friends in Hogwarts," she said.

"Oh, no they weren't," Harry quickly said, smiling. "Not at all. But they were in the same year."

Ginny smiled back. "I can sort of see why Snape hates you so much."

Harry chuckled. "Oh, yeah."

They were silent again as they resumed descending the steps. When they reached the landing, Harry blurted out, "What did _you_ dream about?"

Ginny didn't look up at him. She fixed her gaze at something far-off, and from her side Harry could see that she had a sad smile on her face.

"It was your mum talking to you," she finally told him.

Harry stopped in his tracks and felt his heart skip a beat.

"Mum?" he gasped.

Ginny stopped as well, and faced him. For a fraction of a second, she looked startled at the sudden change on Harry's features. Harry waited for her to speak, not knowing that to Ginny, his eyes were filled with sad yearning.

"You were crying," Ginny said quietly, still with a faraway look. "So your mum picked you up...and rocked you to sleep as she sang." She smiled wistfully. "She had a very beautiful voice, Harry."

Harry wasn't able to say anything.

"She said your father was in Hogwarts to talk to Dumbledore about something...she said everything's going to be all right. Then when you fell asleep...she just looked at you, and finally cried."

How must that have felt, sleeping fitfully, knowing that your mother was watching you, even though inside, she was hurting? Harry tried to remember, but he couldn't. He felt a gaping sadness inside himself. It was the one thing he'd love to see, but even his dreams couldn't grant him that.

Ginny looked at him questioningly. "Everything went on well with your dad, didn't it?"

Harry snapped out of his trance. "Yes," he fibbed. "I mean...aside from the fact that Snape was there."

Ginny smiled again, that wistful smile. "There was still no talk of the counter-curse, huh?"

Of all the questions she had to ask, this was one he didn't want to answer. "No," he replied quietly.

Ginny merely nodded. Then, to Harry's surprise, she took his hand. Her touch was weak, but it was there, and somehow it made him feel better.

"Come on," she simply said.

Harry let her lead him the rest of the way.

Dumbledore was anticipating Harry as well, it seemed. He didn't comment when Harry entered with Ginny, the two of them still holding hands. Ginny finally noticed, and gave him an embarrassed grin as she released his hand.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" she asked the Headmaster.

Dumbledore merely gave them a curt nod. "And I assume you understand why I sent for you?"

"Yes," said Ginny. "You wanted to ask me about how I'm coping up with the curse."

Harry had to blink in surprise. Trust Ginny to talk about things so easily, even without her expression changing a single bit.

Dumbledore leaned forward on his desk. "And how _are_ you?"

Ginny shrugged. "Just fine, sir."

Dumbledore motioned for them to take the seats in front of the desks. Harry and Ginny sat down, facing each other. Dumbledore conjured three cups and a steaming teapot.

"The dreams," Dumbledore went on, now looking at Harry. "How are they?"

Harry shook his head. He told him about how the dreams didn't come on a nightly basis anymore; how his parents didn't mention a word about the counter-curse in any of them. He told him of the last two dreams that they had—about the Death Eater attack, and his father meeting Snape in Hogwarts. Both of them seemed unimportant, considering the gravity of the dream they were really waiting for.

Dumbledore turned to Ginny again. His eyes looked concerned, and at the same time serious. "Ginny, I want you to tell me..._honestly_...how you are feeling physically."

Ginny seemed to sense the intensity of Dumbledore's words. She half-shrugged awkwardly. "I feel okay, Professor," she murmured. "I want to go to sleep early at night, but that's just about it. The potion Harry gave me makes me feel a bit better at night, though."

Dumbledore produced some tea leaves and placed them inside the teapot. "And you haven't felt any pain anywhere in your body?"

Harry straightened up all of a sudden. Pain? The pain he felt in his chest earlier in the morning... it had somehow slipped from his mind, as though it was part of the dream itself.

"No, sir," said Ginny.

Professor Dumbledore and Ginny didn't seem to have noticed Harry's confusion. "Why didn't you come to class last Wednesday?" Dumbledore asked.

"I..." Ginny hesitated. "I just didn't...feel like going, sir," she mumbled. "The dream—the one about the Death Eater attack...it was so sad that I felt too exhausted to move."

Dumbledore's white brows furrowed. He turned to Harry. "You said you had the dream about your father and Professor Snape this morning, am I right?"

"Yes, sir." Harry was wondering if he should ask Dumbledore about the pain he felt—but what would Ginny say? She had made it clear to him, perfectly, that she didn't want him hurt.

"Lily wasn't there, so naturally you, Ginny, will have a different dream—one about Lily. What did you dream about?"

"I dreamed about her and Harry," said Ginny. "She just sort of talked to him and sang him to sleep. It was pretty sad, actually."

"Sad?" Dumbledore repeated. "How do you feel now, Ginny?"

Harry almost expected Ginny to blurt out, "sad," but she didn't. "Okay," she said. "A bit sleepy, Professor, but okay."

Dumbledore gazed at her thoughtfully. His eyes were so intense, Harry saw, that Ginny looked down on her feet and bit her lip.

Harry wondered what was coming up. Dumbledore clearly understood something in the small pieces of information he and Ginny had given. Harry wondered, again, if he could add to that by telling him of the pain in his chest... and, now that he thought about it, the weakness he felt the day Ginny didn't go to classes. Were they somehow connected?

Presently Dumbledore stood up and paced the room. Ginny's eyes followed Dumbledore for a moment, then went back to Harry questioningly. Harry shrugged, unable to answer her unspoken questions.

"You seem to show extraordinary resilience to the curse, Ginny," Dumbledore finally said. "Those whom I know had been hit by the Cunctantis Curse died a week later."

Harry and Ginny looked at each other in shock.

"I know it says two weeks in your schoolbooks," Dumbledore continued, "but I'm afraid they need to revise them. Two weeks is only an estimate, and a very rough one, I may add. I know the victims of the curse personally, and they felt emotional turmoil as they waited for death to come. It utterly affects the time they have left."

Dumbledore turned to Ginny. "But you, my dear, don't feel _that_ kind of emotion anymore, because you know you're given a chance to live. What you do have, however, are dreams that exhaust you emotionally."

Harry knotted his forehead. So the dream about the attack had literally drained her out. That was why she wasn't able to go to her classes.

"You don't realize it, but there seems to be something in you strong enough to help you fight the curse. Perhaps it will hold on long enough for you and Harry to finally dream about something good—the counter-curse." Dumbledore went back to his desk and, smiling, poured tea into the teacups. "Of course, I expect that kind of toughness in you, Ginny. Most wizards would have easily failed under Voldemort's power, but you fought him back for a whole year at eleven years old."

"I had some help," she replied, looking over at Harry, smiling.

Harry smiled back, but his mind was someplace else. If what Dumbledore had said was true—that something else was helping Ginny go through the Cunctantis Curse—it was probably _him_, Harry. Didn't he feel weak himself when Ginny was supposed to be emotionally worn out, after those dreams? And this morning—when in Ginny's dream, his mother was crying—didn't he feel his chest constrict painfully? It was as though the effects of the curse was channeled onto him. Although how, he couldn't explain it himself.

Not that it mattered. Harry took the cup of tea Dumbledore offered and took a sip. He figured, as long as he was strong, Ginny will be able to hold on. That, and matched by Ginny's natural resilience. She didn't quail completely under Voldemort's power three years ago, and she couldn't quail under a Death Eater curse easily, either. She was strong. And Harry knew he would be for her, too.

Just as long as the dreams didn't exhaust her even more. The dreams were going to help, he knew it, but they had to be... light.

There was no need to tell Dumbledore, or anybody, about what had occurred to him, it seemed to Harry.

How very wrong he was.

Days passed. After the talk with Dumbledore, Ginny and Harry basked in the new hope given to them. There were no dreams; this bothered Harry, but only a bit. He was more relieved upon seeing Ginny almost back to normal. After a week, it even seemed as though she had thrown off the curse completely, in fact.

Hermione had noticed this, too, and asked Harry about it as they were studying for their O.W.L.s, which was dangerously near.

"I thought you're going to be glad about it," he told her.

"I am," said Hermione. "But you haven't dreamed of the counter-curse yet, have you?"

"No," Harry said, not looking up from _Unfogging the Future_. "But its time will come."

The dream finally came. But it was nothing like Harry had wanted to see.

* * *

Sirius took a deep breath as he held Harry close to him. It was dreadfully cold on that October evening, especially in this dark forest where all sorts of dark creatures probably lurked. But the baby's body was warm, like it was for all babies. He carefully arranged the blanket around the boy and gazed at him. His godson was so small, so vulnerable.

James watched as Sirius held Harry. It would be quite a while before James would see Sirius again. In fact, he wondered if he'd ever see his best friend again.

Sirius gave a tender smile to Harry, something that James rarely saw on Sirius's face. Harry could do that to someone as brash as Sirius Black.

_Harry._ It was unfair. It wasn't right for the boy to be thrown into this kind of destiny. He was only a year old, and yet he had to live like this. Sometimes, James wished that Harry wasn't born to him, for such a beautiful child deserved a normal life. Not a life where he was forced to hide.

_But this will be the last,_ James swore to himself. _After this, everything will be all right. We will round up the Death Eaters eventually. We will defeat Voldemort._

James felt his wife's hands clasp on his wrist. "He's here," she said, her voice shaking.

Against the mist, James could make out a short, stocky figure approaching them. It was Peter. Sighing in relief, he motioned for Sirius to come.

Lily smiled at Peter. "Thanks, Pete."

Peter looked edgy, as he always were when they were in an operation. But James thought Peter looked even more nervous than he usually was. Despite the cold air, he was sweating.

"You okay?" Sirius asked him.

Peter nodded. "Yeah," he croaked.

"Don't worry, it won't hurt," Lily told him. "It's just a simple spell."

James knew Lily thought more than that. The Fidelius Charm was immensely complex, as Professor Flitwick had put it. But Professor Dumbledore had said that it was their best chance, and James thought he was right. Lily had learned the spell well, and volunteered to perform the charm.

James felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. Sirius was looking at him, trying to smile, but his eyes betrayed him.

"I have a bottle of Firewhiskey at home," Sirius said, his voice shaking. "Seventy-five years old. When this is all over, you, Lily, Peter and Remus can all come over. And don't forget to bring Harry," he added, motioning to the bundle he was holding.

James nodded. "That will be some day, huh, Padfoot?"

James thought he saw Sirius's eyes glisten. "It'll come," said Sirius simply. "I know it."

Lily sniffled beside James. "Well," she whispered hoarsely, "I guess I'd better do it now."

"Will you be all right with it, really?" Sirius asked her. "It'll drain you out."

"It'll only take a whole day's rest," Lily assured him. "I'll be fine."

Sirius nodded.

They all knew that the time had come at last.

Sirius bent down to place a kiss on Harry's forehead. "Be strong, Prongs Junior," he whispered. Unwillingly, he handed Harry to James. "And you too."

James grasped Sirius hand tightly. He felt his own eyes prickle with tears. "Sirius, I was just thinking... if anything happens to me and Lily—"

"Shut up," Sirius said sternly. "You'll both come out of there alive."

"One can never tell," James replied. "Look... you're Harry's godfather. You'll take care of him in case that happens."

Sirius looked at James in disbelief. His eyes traveled to Peter, then Lily.

Lily just smiled. She didn't bother to contain her tears. "One can never tell," she repeated. "But Harry _will_ come out alive, and we'll make sure of that."

Lily's green eyes bored into Sirius's. Finally, he took a deep breath, and nodded.

Lily walked over to him and embraced him. "Thank you," she whispered.

James grasped his hand again. The two men stared hard into each other's eyes, unsaid words flowing out in torrents, both of them wishing each other luck, both submitting to their own destinies.

After an agonizing moment, Sirius let go and took out his wand. With a final curt nod at Peter, he Disapparated.

James sighed heavily and faced Peter. He extended out his hand. "Wormtail, I really appreciate what you'll be doing. Padfoot will keep you safe in your hiding place, all right?"

Peter just nodded nervously. "Yeah... I know. I'm ready."

James looked at Lily. "Are you?"

Lily wiped away her tears. "Sure I am."

James breathed deeply again. His heart began to quicken in its beating. "Okay."

Lily slowly took out her wand... and placed its tip on Peter's head.

* * *

Harry woke up with a start, his pulse racing a mile a minute. The dream was still in his mind, and when he closed his eyes again, he could still see the dark forest, could feel the harsh air.

The dream... the dream occurred a week before his parents died. And in the way the pace of the dreams was going, it was probably the second to the last dream the wedding rings would give him and Ginny.

He got out of bed and ran flat out of the dormitory, not even noticing that Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus had called out to him. Ginny had to know as soon as she got down from the fourth-year girls' room—that barely a week after the Fidelius Charm was performed, Peter betrayed his parents and sold them to Voldemort. The last dream will almost certainly be of that night his parents died. Ginny had to know.

Suddenly, something Sirius had said in the dream came back to Harry, and Sirius's apprehensive voice was crystal-clear: _"Will you be all right with it, really? It'll drain you out."_

The Fidelius Charm was a complex one, and drained his mother out. _"It'll only take a whole day's rest. I'll be fine."_

_"No,"_ Harry panted as he stepped into the common room. It couldn't have affected Ginny... could it? He didn't feel anything... he didn't feel weak at all....

There was a sudden scream from somewhere in the girls' dormitories. Harry didn't think twice. He sprinted up their staircase, his feet carrying him to the room of the fourth-years.

The door was ajar. Harry suddenly bumped into Hermione as he tried to come in.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, her face white. "Oh, Harry—"

Harry looked behind her. Three girls were huddled around a bed. His gaze fell on the silver thing on the floor beside it.

It was the wireless he had given Ginny for her birthday.

"—The wireless fell on the floor. They tried to rouse her up. She won't wake."

_To be Continued..._

**Jenna's Notes:** _Yeah, I know, I cliffed it. A couple more chapters should to it. ;-) Thanks to all those who reviewed for this fic, which is my first in the Harry Potter fandom. I really appreciate them.   
This chapter is for Jenn, my site host for some time, a good friend, and probably the most rabid H/G-er I know. (More rabid than I am, can you believe that?!) She continuously encouraged me to finish this thing. Thanks, Jenn! :-)_


	15. The CounterCurse

_ JennaMae would like to apologize for a very touchy-feely chapter. Thank you._

** Family**

_ Chapter Fifteen  
The Counter-Curse_

Try as he might, Harry couldn't remember much of what had happened after Hermione had spoken to him. As he closed his eyes now, he only saw the image of a redheaded girl lying lifelessly on her bed, pale as death, her freckles standing out in awful contrast to her skin.

As he knew it, he was shouting at her, willing her to wake up and not to yield. He had shaken her violently, touching her cold sweat in the process—then someone shoved him away, and they had levitated her to take her somewhere, and someone else strained him from going with her.

Ginny had looked so much like the eleven-year-old girl he had found in the Chamber of Secrets three years ago—the girl who stood firm against Voldemort, but only to be defeated in the end. It seemed to be happening all over again.

Harry now buried his face in his shaking hands. _How could she give up?_ he asked himself desperately. _Why did she have to? _

"Why didn't you tell me all this sooner?"

Harry looked up at the owner of the grave, but intense voice. Dumbledore looked down at him, his blue eyes grim and equally intense.

When Harry saw Dumbledore in the fourth-year girls' dormitory a while ago, all traces of hope ebbed away from his heart. For the first time in his life, Harry had seen terror filling the headmaster's blue eyes. Presently, they were in a chamber near the hospital wing. Dumbledore had taken him there to talk to him privately.

Harry raked his fingers through his hair. "I don't want her to know that I was hurting too. She doesn't want it to happen to me."

"You could have told me alone."

"I know. Professor, I thought I was strong enough for her..."

Harry choked up the last word. He felt the old waves of guilt coming back to him, but strangling him worse. He buried his face in his hands once more.

Dumbledore reached out to place a hand on his shoulder firmly. "Harry," he said softly, "don't blame yourself."

"How _couldn't_ I?" Harry said hoarsely. "I wasn't able to help her when she needed it. And even if we do dream about the counter-curse...she wouldn't be..." His voice trailed off.

Dumbledore remained silent for a while. Harry had told Dumbledore everything—about how he thought he had something to do with Ginny's resilience against the curse. Harry now hated himself for not telling him sooner. Something could have been done if he only had—

"There is no counter-curse, Harry."

Harry's head snapped up. He stared, bewildered, at the grim face of the headmaster. _"What did you say?" _

"There is no counter-curse," Dumbledore repeated quietly.

Harry continued to stare. Dumbledore must be wrong. His parents wouldn't fail him, ever—or _would _they?

"You do know that you've been helping her cope up with the curse, don't you?"

Harry nodded mutely. He was starting to see what Dumbledore meant.

"Remember what I told you about how the counter-curse will work? It will involve the transferring of energy from the strong person to the victim. It has happened. You've done it, Harry."

"But...how did I do it?" Harry asked slowly, looking down on his upturned palms. "I simply couldn't...channel my energy to her without a connection—"

He stopped. His gaze fell on his father's silver ring, at the stag engraved on it. Dumbledore looked at the ring as well, and the look of comprehension that dawned on the headmaster's face confirmed Harry's suspicions.

_The connection._

Harry took a sharp intake of breath. There was no counter-curse—but he was already saving Ginny—_through the wedding rings_. From that moment he and Ginny unclasped the rings and wore them, they were already connected.

There was a spell in the rings—_another_ spell, apart from the one that unclasped them from each other and the one that conjured the dreams. It was the spell that somehow transferred his energy to Ginny.

"The rings," Harry whispered. "But...during all those times she was weak, I shared it with her...why don't I feel weak now, when she's...?"

Dumbledore looked at him for a long while before he spoke. "Perhaps it's because she has stopped feeling the pain."

"But that would mean she's stopped fighting..."

"Perhaps she's just waiting for what would happen next."

Something in Dumbledore's eyes told Harry what he could do. Harry had told Dumbledore and Sirius not too long ago that he would do what he meant to.

He could save her.

It was their only chance.

His resolve firm, his hands no longer shaking, Harry stood up. "I'll go talk to her," he told Dumbledore.

"Harry."

Dumbledore was looking at him differently now. "You know she doesn't want you to...."

Harry knew what Dumbledore meant to say. "I know, Professor," he said. "I don't know how well my parents created the spell...but I'm putting all my trust on them."

"I understand," Dumbledore said quietly. "But—"

"I'm ready for anything," Harry interrupted.

Dumbledore was gravely silent for some time again. Harry knew that Dumbledore didn't want him to do it, and he didn't want Ginny to die, either. Dumbledore, the man Harry always looked up to, was now torn between his two students. Harry could see Dumbledore's eyes pleading, "let her go," but at the same time it was saying, "please save her."

Dumbledore took a deep breath. "You have the ring, Harry," he whispered. "You have the choice."

"I'll do it."

Dumbledore's frown creased deeper into his forehead.

"Be careful," he finally said.

Harry had no qualms about what was about to happen at all. It was perhaps the reason why he didn't share Dumbledore's desperate, pleading look, and why it didn't matter to him that it was probably the last time he'd see the headmaster again.

Harry left the chamber, where Dumbledore remained. Taking a deep breath, he half-ran to the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey was so distressed that she didn't comment at all when Harry entered. Ron and Hermione looked up as he did. A small, redheaded figure lay on the bed they were watching over.

"Harry," Hermione whispered.

Both of his best friends' eyes were bloodshot. Ron clung to Hermione; he looked about to break down.

Harry went straight to them, and to Ginny. He gazed at the girl who let him cry in her arms, made him laugh with her wit, and inspired him with her faith...now lying, unconscious, so pale and helpless. He touched her hand—none of the warmth Harry remembered was left now.

"Ginny," he whispered. "It's me."

Ginny made no movement; there was only the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed—the only sign of life coming from her.

"Please, listen," Harry said. "You have to come back. We all need you. Ron, Hermione, Fred, George...Percy, Charlie and Bill...your parents...Dumbledore..."

Ron and Hermione watched him. Apart from Hermione's soft sobs, they were silent.

"...And me." Harry's voice broke at this point. "I need you. Don't give up. I need you to come back."

Harry wasn't quite sure if he imagined it or not, but he started to feel his heart beat laboriously faster. Then—this time, he was sure of it—Ginny's hand began to grow warm.

"Ginny," Harry whispered again. "Go on—please—don't give up—I'm here, I want to help you—"

Harry's muscles began to tense. He looked at his hand that was holding Ginny's. The wedding rings—both of them—were glowing brighter with every passing second.

"Harry, what are you—" Ron started to say frantically.

_"Let me help you,"_ Harry went on.

It happened all so suddenly. Harry felt something swallow him from deep within his heart. His surroundings seemed to fade into nothing...he looked down, and saw the image of Ginny's pale face melt in front of his eyes...and Harry realized, he was fainting. Everything began to turn black.

But he knew it would all come to this. It was all for Ginny, and whatever happened to him didn't seem to matter anymore.

He welcomed the darkness.

Then he heard someone singing from far off. It was Ginny. It was her sweet voice, singing to him...singing the first song he ever heard her sing...her voice was becoming louder and louder...

_"You and I, we have moments left to share  
You and I, we can make it anywhere  
You and I, we belong in each other's arms..." _

* * *

_"...There can be no other love  
And I know we can have it all...forever...." _

James stood at the foot of the stairs, listening to his wife sing to their sleeping son. Harry lay on Lily's chest, his beautiful head resting on her shoulder as Lily swayed from side to side near the fireplace in the living room.

James watched for a long while. It should have looked like a tender moment, but James knew otherwise. Lily looked thinner and paler than she had been last week, and though her voice was still as beautiful as ever, her movements were somewhat staggered.

They were staying for barely a week there in Godric's Hollow. By all intents and purposes, the place was safe—the doors and windows, even the chimney were charmed, and one cannot Apparate or Disapparate from the house. It cannot be reached by Portkey or Floo Powder, either. There were ways to leave, but not to enter. But, safe or not, James had seen Lily fade before his eyes in such a short time.

And why not? The two of them knew the time was near. If there was a chance that they were going to get away, it was very, very slim. Nowadays, they lived for only one thing.

Their son.

Lily set Harry on the blanket she had laid on the sofa. Harry squirmed a bit. Lily hummed some more, until Harry lay still, unaware of what was really happening around him.

Though her back was turned to him, James knew what her face looked like. He could see her eyes in his mind—sad, painful, filled with tears. She sighed heavily, knelt on the floor and kissed Harry's forehead.

James approached her. "Lily."

Lily turned around. "Hey," she whispered, standing up.

They met in the middle of the room. James placed his hands on her waist and kissed her delicately on her mouth. Then he trailed his lips on her cheek, to her ear, trailing soft kisses on them, until they finally rested in the thickness of her fragrant hair.

Lily breathed softly. She was limp and pliant in his arms. James held her closer. They stayed that way for a long time, with the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. How James wished time could just stop right then and there...

"I think it's working," he finally murmured.

Lily looked up. James released her from his arms, and reached for something in his pockets.

It was their wedding rings, locked together. The emerald on Lily's ring glowed in the firelight. James was suddenly struck by how the gem matched Lily's eyes perfectly.

With a mere touch of Lily's hand, the rings unclasped themselves. Lily took her ring and slipped it into her right ring finger. James did the same with his ring.

Lily gazed at both wedding bands. "Only Dumbledore knows of this spell, right?"

James nodded. "I just hope he'll tell Harry..."

"He'll know what to do...in case...." Lily's voice trailed off. James knew exactly what she meant.

James and Lily had put the spell on the rings before they married two years ago. The rings were meant to be detached from one another only at the touch of those whom the rings were meant for. They were going to be Harry's when the time comes, and unclasped again when he meets his future bride. It didn't work on Divination and such—it only worked on the emotions between the two people holding the rings. It only worked with love.

_When_ exactly the rings were going to be Harry's, James and Lily weren't sure. But they were prepared whenever the time came.

"How is Harry going to know about the other spell, James?" Lily quietly asked.

James smiled grimly. "Seems like he'll have to figure that out by himself." He sighed. "I just wish we worked the spell out sooner, and we could have told Sirius..."

"I know."

"Lily." He took her right hand and kissed the spot where her ring rested. "Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid. I'm just...worried for our son."

James's heart sank. _It's my fault,_ he thought. _If it weren't for me, Lily and Harry wouldn't be here at all... _

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, looking away.

Lily stared at him, confused. "For what?"

"For...bringing you here."

Lily continued to stare at him. Then, sighing, she placed her hands on either side of his face and looked deeply into his eyes.

"This was my choice, James," she said softly, so that her breath grazed his lips like a warm breeze. "I'm willing to die because I love you and Harry with all my heart."

James closed his eyes and let Lily stroke his cheeks with her soft hands. There were tears pricking his eyes now; he took a deep breath and forced them away. But he wasn't strong enough.

His wife, the strong one, brushed his tears away from his cheeks. James had to smile. "Where will I be without you, Lil?"

Lily touched her lips with his briefly. "That's impossible," she said against his lips. "I live for you, you know."

"I love you," James murmured. The truth, the gravity of what he had just said was never truer than when he said it at that moment.

Then he kissed her fiercely, with the passion and understanding that only existed between them. Lily kissed him back, and her kiss was just as desperate as his own, as though there was no time left in the world for them. James closed his eyes again and let his hands roam freely across his wife's body. He longed to memorize her...to bring her with him in heaven....

Lily suddenly stiffened. James pulled his head back, surprised. Lily's eyes were wide with terror.

Then he felt it too. A rush of cold air filled the room, and chilled him to the bones. Lily held his arm tightly, anticipating.

James slowly walked towards the window in front of the house. Taking a deep breath, he shifted the curtain, just slightly to see.

A tall, hooded, dark-cloaked figure was slowly walking across their front lawn. James drew a sharp intake of breath. It was...it was _him_. He knew this could happen...but they had expected Death Eaters...not _him_ alone...

James stumbled backwards. He was frozen in spot. In a nanosecond, a million questions whirled through his mind. _Voldemort_ had found them. Where were Dumbledore, and Remus, and Sirius? And Peter—how did Voldemort know where he was hiding? What did he do to Peter? What was going to happen to his family?

_His family. _

_Lily. And Harry. _

"Lily, take Harry and go!" James yelled, pulling his wand out of his belt. "It's him—I'll hold him off—"

Lily scooped Harry up in her arms. But before she could take another step, they heard a chilling, high-pitched laughter that made James and Lily shudder.

James ran to his wife, embraced her intensely, and kissed Harry. He inhaled, committing the baby scent into his memory.

It was getting colder in the room. "Go," he said weakly.

Lily's eyes were filled with tears. "James—"

_"Go." _

_Be safe,_ James prayed as he stood in front of the living room door, wand at the ready. He forced his eyes not to fall on his family's retreating figure—he knew it would only break his heart, and he couldn't afford to. Not now.

The door burst open.

No one—apart from the Death Eaters—lived to tell what Voldemort looked like. And he looked more terrible than the rumors. With red eyes, a white, snakelike face and slits for a nose, Voldemort was the vilest thing James had laid eyes on. Fear shook him for a while, until Voldemort curled what was left of his lips to a sneer and spoke.

"Potter."

James pointed his wand at Voldemort's heart—if there ever was one in his chest. His hand was steady. "What do you want?"

Voldemort's smile widened, became even fouler. "So they were correct, after all," he scorned. "James Potter is indeed the bravest person in Dumbledore's forces."

"Get out, Voldemort," James spat, knowing that he had to stall for time, to let Lily get away with Harry.

Voldemort observed James with those lifeless, cruel eyes. "I wonder," he said, "if you'll still be that brave once I'm through with your son..."

"Don't you _dare_ come near my family," James said, his voice shaking out of intense anger and the beginnings of fear.

James could see that Voldemort meant to do it—and quickly. "We'll see," he said. He raised his chin up—it looked as though he was sniffing the air. "They're still here—they haven't escaped yet, it seems."

James ground his teeth together. _This is it,_ he thought, gripping his wand tighter. _Lily—Harry—be safe— _

Voldemort had raised his wand. _"Avada—"_

_"EXPELLIARMUS!"_ James bellowed.

_"—Kedavra!" _

An invisible force made James stagger backward. In a rush, James saw Lily in front of his eyes—her lovely, smiling face, with Harry in her arms. They were smiling at him. He saw Sirius, grinning at him as he handed him the Marauder's Map and mouthing, "Mission accomplished!" He saw Remus, shaking his hand when James received his Head Boy badge. He saw Peter, nodding shakily when he agreed to be Secret-Keeper. He saw Dumbledore, smiling at him like a grandfather when James told him about Harry...

...And his beautiful son was there again, cooing and giggling in Lily's arms—James could smell Harry's scent—his son and his wife were waving at him—they were waving goodbye—they were going to be all right—

The ring slipped off James's finger, but he never felt it. For darkness had already devoured him, and James Potter knew no more.

* * *

Harry Potter opened his eyes wearily, and instantly squinted at the harsh sunlight that streamed out of the windows of the hospital wing. It was afternoon, it seemed.

Harry tried to stand up, but found that he was already on his feet. He blinked a few times and looked around him. A few people were huddled around two beds. Frantic-looking, they seemed to be. Frowning, Harry approached them. No one seemed to hear him.

He squeezed through a gap between two persons in the huddle to see who was on the bed. Strangely, he slipped through very easily.

His eyes fell on the person lying on the bed, and his jaw dropped open.

It was...it was _him_. The boy on the bed was pale, unconscious—almost...almost..._dead_—

Harry stepped backward, stunned and suddenly scared.

_"It's no good,"_ a female voice spoke. It was Madam Pomfrey—but her voice sounded rather distant. _"His pulse is weak...it's getting even weaker, Professor."_

_"He can't,"_ a choked voice, also distant, replied. Harry was surprised to see that it was Dumbledore, looking panicked. He had never seen him like that before. _"Harry—fight—I know you're still there—" _

Then it struck him. He seemed to be floating around, like a ghost—no, not a ghost, for they'd still be able to see him if her were one. He was...like a spirit...it looked as though he was nearing death....

_"Fight, Harry,"_ a different female voice whimpered, and this one sounded familiar. And she was standing right in front of him, with her back turned to him. The tall boy beside her slipped an arm around her shoulders and let her sob on his chest. In all the confusion, Harry didn't realize that he had squeezed through Ron and Hermione.

_"She's coming to,"_ someone from the huddle around the other bed said. It was George, holding the hand of...the person on the bed. And he suddenly realized—it was _Ginny_—and this was all about her.

The events of the day rushed back to Harry. Ginny had slipped into a coma because of the counter-curse. He had transferred his energy to her—

—And that was the reason why he—the other _he—_was lying there, unconscious.

Dumbledore approached the other bed, followed by Ron and Hermione. Harry managed to squeeze through again, and he saw Ginny on the bed, unconscious, but breathing heavily and muttering.

"Not Harry—please—"

_"She's dreaming,"_ Dumbledore said quietly, his gaze falling on something on Ginny's hand. Something glowing. It was the emerald ring.

Harry looked at his own hand. He was wearing his father's ring, and it was glowing orange.

Ginny gave an audible gasp. Then, she gave a violent jerk, and her eyes flew wide open as she cried, _"Harry!" _

_"Ginny,"_ Fred and George said together in relief. Harry felt the same—a huge weight was suddenly lifted off his chest. Ginny was going to live.

But Ginny didn't look relieved at all. She tried to sit up. _"Harry—where is he—is he okay? Where's James?"_

Everyone looked at her, perplexed. _"James? James Potter?"_ Madam Pomfrey asked out loud.

Dumbledore let out a weary sigh. _"Please calm her a bit,"_ he told Fred and George quietly. He put a hand on Ginny's shoulder, and to her said, _"You had a rough day." _

Ginny knotted her forehead at the headmaster. Then it seemed as if a veil was lifted from her face as she remembered where she was. She gasped. _"I-I'm sorry—I was—what happened?"_

_"Harry did it,"_ Dumbledore said softly. But he was speaking to Ron and Hermione.

_"Did—what?"_ asked Ron, his voice shaking.

_"The transferring of energy, Ronald,"_ Dumbledore explained. _"He used the spell placed on his parents' rings to cure her of the curse. He...he gave his life to her."_

Hermione gripped Ron's arm tightly. _"But—what about—" _

_"Don't tell me he's going to die,"_ Ron whispered.

Dumbledore looked pained. _"I...do not know. I just pray that he won't give up so easily...."_

_Give up?_ Harry thought. How was he going to give up?

Or go back, for that matter? He was only a spirit now. What _can_ he do?

He looked back at Ginny. She had calmed down. It seemed as if they haven't yet told her about what had happened to him.

Harry went closer to where Ginny lay. He saw her face, filled with concern for him, although she couldn't even see him on the other bed. The very idea of him saving her, it seemed, worried her.

"Harry."

Harry suddenly froze.

He knew _that_ voice anywhere. He had heard her scream whenever Dementors were near. He had heard her when she somehow materialized from Voldemort's wand last year. He had heard her...in his dreams. There was a sudden painful tugging in his heart.

He turned around. And saw them.

_His parents. _

Lily and James Potter stood not very far away from him, a misty sort of white light surrounding everything around them. It looked as though the hospital wing had suddenly faded away. If Harry took a few steps forward, he could reach them. And oh, how _badly_ he wanted to reach them....

They were holding hands. His mother gazed at him lovingly. She was how she had always looked in his dreams—dark, red hair, glittering green eyes, heart-shaped face, and that sweet smile...

And his father. _Dad._ They were right—everyone was right—his father looked...just like him. Only taller. And his eyes were brown—grayish, even. And there was a look in them that Harry had seen many times before, but never given to him.

It was a fatherly look. Harry had always hungered for it, and now, here was his father—his _own_ father—looking at him that way.

His father smiled at him. "Hello, son."

_Son._ Oh, how beautiful the word sounded. Harry was suddenly overcome by emotions he couldn't sort out. Unable to speak, Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and started to walk towards his parents.

"Harry—please don't come any closer," his mother said.

Harry stopped. _Why not?_ he thought. He only wanted to be with them—hold them, for the first time in his entire life.

"You can't come with us," his father told him, as if reading his mind. "At least, not yet."

"What do you mean, Dad?" Harry asked. _Dad._ He was actually addressing his own father.

"It's not yet time," his father went on. "You have a long, happy life ahead of you."

"We made sure of that," his mother added. She looked at his hand. "You've figured it out, it seems."

Harry held his hand up, where his ring—his father's ring—continued to glow.

"We didn't get to make a proper counter-curse," his mother went on. "But the rings create the same effect, as you have seen. It will transfer energy to the other person wearing it if she is physically weak. And like the spell that unclasped the rings, this spell only works with positive emotions between those two people."

His father grinned, a bit mischievously. "You and Ginny Weasley use them pretty well."

Harry broke into a smile himself. "You've been watching us, haven't you?"

"Of course we have," his mother told him kindly. "Always—from up there." She looked upward, to the heavens.

Harry felt that he could talk to them forever. "So what do you think about her?"

His father gave him a thumbs-up. "Great choice."

Harry actually laughed out loud. His dad was _cool_.

His father slipped an arm around his mother's waist. Harry's grin faded; it suddenly occurred to him that this was probably the last time he'd be able to talk to his family for a long, long while.

"Harry," his father began, "Ginny needs you. You've seen her, haven't you? She'll be miserable if you leave. All your efforts on saving her will be for nothing, if she lives an unhappy life, right?"

"The spells on the rings gave us the assurance that you'll have a wonderful life ahead of you," his mother said. "We want you to have the family you used to have in us, Harry."

Harry nodded silently. They knew—somehow, they knew that he had always longed for a family. And they assured that he _would_ have one. They didn't only give him protection, after all.

"I always think of you, you know," Harry managed to croak out.

His mother's eyes filled with tears. "Yes," she whispered. "We know."

"I love you both," Harry whispered back.

His father gave him that fatherly look again—it was a look of pride and powerful love. Harry reveled in it in that single moment. "We love you too, son."

Harry nodded once more. Tears had sprung into his eyes, and he blinked them away. He looked at his parents for a long while, and imagined himself running to them, embracing them. All his life, he had prayed for a moment like that.

But his parents had something else more wonderful in store for him. It would be with Ginny Weasley. And Harry knew it _would_ be wonderful.

"'Bye, Mum," Harry said. "Dad."

"Goodbye," they both whispered.

"And thanks...for everything...."

It was then that Harry felt himself falling. His white surroundings gradually diminished. His parents faded before his very eyes. They were waving at him...that was the last thing he remembered....

Harry closed his eyes, and waited. He was going back. And Harry knew that everything would be all right.

_**Jenna's Notes:** There you go. Seems like I've explained almost everything that needs to be explained. Please don't stop reading yet—we've got a chapter to go! Thanks for putting up with me. ;)_


	16. Alive

**Family**

_ Chapter Sixteen  
Alive_

The white swirling steam from three teacups floated to the ceiling of the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore quietly stirred his tea, his gaze fixed at the ceiling, as though thinking deeply. He seemed to be only vaguely aware of someone whispering spells in front of him.

When a click was heard in the room, followed by the haunting strings of a violin, Dumbledore returned his gaze to the two people in front of him and smiled.

"That's an interesting contraption," Sirius remarked, picking up the wireless. "You say you made it?"

"No," Harry said, mildly surprised, as he put his wand back in his pocket. He had been fixing the wireless he had given Ginny for her birthday. "It's a Muggle wireless, Sirius. I just adjusted it a bit so it can work with magic."

"That's _brilliant_," Sirius said, beaming at Harry. He was turning the wireless over in his palms again and again, scrutinizing every inch of it.

"Not as brilliant as the Marauder's Map," Harry told him. "It's really simple. It's not like inventing a new spell—no, only Hermione can do that in my year. It's like putting an already known spell into an object."

Dumbledore set his cup down and nodded at Harry. "It is almost like how it was with your parents' wedding rings, isn't it?"

Harry looked up at the Headmaster, startled. "Well—no, not really—they had to invent a spell for energy transfer, right?"

"Yes, and the rings had to work with emotions, too," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling as he gazed at Harry. "That's very complex magic. It was very brilliant of your parents, I must say."

"I knew those two could do it," Sirius said, placing the wireless back on the table. His eyes were on something far-off, as though reminiscing. "It seems they managed to put certain memories in the rings, too."

Dumbledore nodded once more. "The rings seem to have the properties of a Pensieve," he told Harry.

Sirius grinned at Harry. "How awesome is that, having an all-around wedding ring?"

Harry smiled back, just a little. He looked at his hands, at his father's wedding ring. His parents' wedding rings were indeed exceptional. They unclasped themselves when he and Ginny had held them together. They had showed him glimpses of his family as how it used to be. And they had helped Ginny fight the counter-curse. She was well again.

All of those...for him.

Harry found that he had been absently twisting the wedding band around his finger. He traced the grooves of the stag with his thumb. Then, he slipped off the wedding ring from his finger. He was finally able to do so when he had awakened in the hospital wing, a week and a half after falling into a coma, for there was no further need of the energy transfer.

His eyes fell on the engraved lettering inside the band.

_I love you. _

_"We want you to have the family you used to have in us, Harry,"_ his mother had said.

Just then, someone knocked on the door. "Come in, please," Dumbledore said.

The door opened. Harry was almost glad to see who was on the other side: Snape. He looked stunned upon seeing Harry—then, as though everything was as it had always been, the Potions master scowled at Harry and then fixed Sirius in a murderous gaze, which Sirius returned.

Dumbledore, however, acknowledged Snape with a smile and a meaningful look. "I think you should hurry off now, Harry," he said. He turned off the wireless and handed it to Harry. "There are a few matters that need to be discussed."

"Right," Sirius said, breaking his eye contact with Snape. "You still have your O.W.L.s to worry about."

Harry groaned, loud enough to be heard by Snape. With a smile at Dumbledore and a wink at Sirius, Harry slipped out of the office quietly.

It was a warm June afternoon, and if the O.W.L.s weren't so close it would have been a good idea to hang out by the lake and do nothing. Harry looked for Ron and Hermione—he and Ron had promised Hermione they would study together. They had been doing so since Harry had returned to Gryffindor Tower.

Harry smiled to himself, thinking about how hysterical his two best friends were when they found him awake in the hospital wing. Hermione had rushed to embrace him, weeping onto his shoulder; Ron was unable to speak for minutes and was just staring at Harry, and it was only until Ginny shook him vigorously and threatened to slap him that he finally grinned at Harry.

It had been a surprise, Harry reflected, when he sensed somebody beside him just as he was trying to break free of unconsciousness there in the hospital wing. He had smelled something familiar—flowers, he had thought—then he had felt something soothingly cool on his hand. When his hand involuntarily twitched, he felt something stir beside his head on the pillow. Then he heard someone whisper, "Harry?" and right before he opened his eyes, he already knew who it was he was going to see.

As though thinking about Ginny made him conjure her up somehow, Harry presently saw a flash of red. Ginny was walking quickly in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. Her head was bent down over a book.

Smiling, Harry reached for the wireless in his pocket and quietly fell in place beside Ginny. "Happy birthday," he muttered, thrusting the wireless in front of her.

Ginny jumped up and for a moment stared wildly at him. Then, recovering, she sighed and regarded him with a wry smile. Her eyes fell on the wireless. "Oh, you fixed it!" she gushed.

"Take care of it now, all right?" Harry said, grinning.

Ginny gave him an embarrassed sort of smile as she closed her book and put the wireless carefully into her robe pocket.

Harry took a deep breath. "Hey, uh," he started to say awkwardly, "d'you want to go out for a walk?"

"I thought you were supposed to be studying for your O.W.L.s. Ron was looking all over for you—said Hermione was starting to get mad."

"They can spare me ten minutes." Harry peered into her face. "Or can't you?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Harry..."

Harry grinned once more. "Well?"

Ginny laughed. "If you fail in Divination, it's not my fault—okay?"

The two of them headed out of the castle. The sky outside was a beautiful clear blue, and the breeze was just right. It reminded Harry of one sunrise in his secret place, where the sun peeked out behind green mountains, illuminating the valley below. The day radiated of hope, of a new life.

There was a relaxed silence between him and Ginny as they reached the lake and began strolling around it. Ginny's hair was a bit ruffled, glinting golden-red under the sunlight, and her cheeks were tinged with pink. She had fully recovered from the curse, Harry was glad to see—her appearance showed it all.

It was a surreal thought—but really comforting—to know that the girl right beside him, the one for whom he felt that strange, powerful feeling that people called love for the first time in his entire life, was eventually going to be..._his_.

Out of nowhere, he asked Ginny, "Do you believe in destiny?"

Ginny looked up at him in surprise. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Harry wasn't so sure why he asked, either. "I dunno...that some things are, er, meant to be?"

A slow smile spread across Ginny's face, as though she couldn't believe Harry was asking such a question. "Well, yes," she began thoughtfully. "But then again, anything can happen...so many things can change. I think it's safe to say that things will happen, but somehow, we're still in control. It's not right to trust only in destiny." She looked up at the sky, then back at Harry doubtfully. "I didn't make any sense, did I?"

Harry grinned at her. "I think I can sort of see what you mean."

Ginny giggled. Then she stopped, and Harry saw that she had looked down on her hands, on the emerald ring on her finger. There was a small, pensive smile playing on her lips. Silence had fallen over them again.

Harry's eyes fell on the tranquil lake, blue and scintillating under the sun. A few ripples were forming as the breeze blew. It was a soothing sight, as though it would forever be like that—placid, immovable. But Harry knew that the wind could pick up speed, and the waters would be violent, and it would be a while before the lake calmed down again.

Things could happen. Things _would happen_. But, in a way, he was not too worried. His parents didn't only leave him with protection, after all. They didn't leave him with destiny all mapped out in front of him, either. They had given him guidance. They were _still_ giving him guidance.

_It's not right to trust only in destiny. _

_We want you to have the family you used to have in us, Harry._

Harry looked up at the sky and said a silent thank-you. Because, for the very first time in his life, Harry felt that his parents were really, truly alive.

_The End_

**_Jenna's Notes:_**

At the time of its conception, _Family_ was a seven-chapter fic about a topic (which I'm not going to tell, because it's something really silly). But then, inspiration struck, and _Family_ turned out to be a totally different journey towards both the past and the future, where Harry learns love and acceptance.

I'm afraid I won't be able to write a sequel to this, but if you will, I have a few other fics in tow that I hope you'll also enjoy. Meanwhile, I just want to tell you, my reviewers, how thankful I am for inspiring me to go on with this fic and to make it better with every chapter. Further thanks to Lisa (Night Zephyr) and Amy for the beta, to which I am extremely grateful. :-)


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